Fourteen
by Flinch-Hayward
Summary: Alternate ending for CoE, to be continued indefinitely with Agent Johnson, Lois and Andy as part of the team. Ianto-centred, so Janto warnings apply. Over 60,000 hits so far. NEW EPISODE - ONE GOOD REASON - NOW UP.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there, and welcome to the Fourteen series! Don't worry if the chapter count seems a little intimidating at first, they're divided up into episodes of between 15 and 20 chapters each. All positive reviews so far (don't be afraid to flame or crit!), so hopefully you're all enjoying it. When I'm not on holiday, the fic is updated daily at 9pm. **

**The Fourteen series is an Alternative Universe that begins by rewriting the 5th episode of Children of Earth - that's the original 'episode' of the series, simply called Fourteen, in which Ianto survives. From then on, the series continues with a new Torchwood team including Lois, Anna (Agent Johnson) and Andy. **

**Hopefully you'll stick around to read it, give it a chance, and maybe even leave me some nice reviews!**

* * *

The room is incredibly quiet. Large, and quiet, and unfamiliar. He doesn't know where he is. For the first few moments, he knows nothing at all. Then, slowly but surely, he begins to piece the fragments together.

He is lying in a bag. Thin, red, with a zipper. A sleeping bag. But he isn't outside. He can see the vague form of a roof above him. The revelation hits him like a ton of bricks that he's in too numb a state to properly feel. A body bag. He's lying in a body bag.

His muscles are stiff, and he's unsure how long he's been lying there. It takes more than one attempt before he manages to sit up. When he does, he forgets to breathe. The room is filled with countless other bags, lined up in neat rows across the entire floor.

Breath still caught in his throat, he turns to the bag beside him and slowly begins pulling down the zipper. An involuntary gasp reminds him that breathing is necessary, but for a few moments he finds he has to consciously will himself to do so. His body is still too numb to move of its own volition.

His hand rests on the zipper as he stares at the unseeing face before him. Even before he touches it - and he feels as though he needs to touch it, to make sure - he can tell the woman is dead. His fingers burn against her icy skin, the contrast in temperature eliciting another juddering gasp from his lips.

He feels compelled to pull the zipper back, to hide the lifeless face from the rest of the lifeless room. Even the air feels dead. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to blank out the imagery. As they open again, he catches sight of the bag on his other side. Empty.

He knows something is strange about this from the offset, though it takes a moment to realise why. The bag is in the middle of the row. Surely they would have filled them one by one, until no more bodies were left? Yet every other bag in the room is filled, even the ones on the other side of the one that is empty.

It's then that the scent reaches him. He sits there, blinking, as he tries to place it. He knows it. He knows it well. It's the smell of warmth, of laughter, of skin on skin. It's the smell of entwined fingers, of blue eyes and dazzling smiles. And quiet smiles, too. Understated, uncertain, did-he-really-just-do-that smiles.

He breathes it in, presses his hand to the empty material. It scuffles as he does so. Jack. The smell of Jack. Jack had been lying here beside him. They had died together.

Had they?

Had he died?

He can't have died. He isn't Jack. He can't just crop back up again, right as rain. And he's fairly sure he's alive right now. Because if he's dead, then what does that make the woman next to him?

He lifts his hands to his face. His skin is warm. Not icy. Warm. He's alive. He has to be alive. He can see the rise and fall of his own chest, feel himself breathing. He's consciously thinking. He has to be alive.

But he can't be alive. Because he can remember dying. He can remember the taste of the poison and the fear, the warmth of Jack's familiar arms, the whisper of his last words. He remembers the 456, and the children, and the demands. He remembers the end.

He remembers everything.

He just doesn't understand it.


	2. Chapter 2

**I just want to thank everybody for their wonderful reviews. I know a lot of people have alerted this and added it to their favourites, so I thought I would repay your kindness in the only way I know how - by writing more. One person suggested that I write from Jack's POV for a bit, so here goes. We'll be back to Ianto next chapter. **

**Sorry the chapters are short. It's because of the POV switches. They should get longer shortly (did that make sense?).**

**In the meantime, please R&R!**

* * *

The corridor is empty except for three figures. One of them has been stationed here, one recently taken here, the other here of her own volition. Yet in this case, it matters little who is here, and rather more about who is not.

"What do you mean, he's not here?" Jack attempts to keep his voice calm, but he cannot help shaking with silent anger. The guard shies away, trembling in the face of the captain's fury. Jack doesn't appear to care. "How can you just _lose_ someone like that?" His words are carefully chosen. Someone. Not a corpse, not a body, but someone.

The guard avoids his gaze. "We don't…know, sir. The bag was found empty this morning."

Jack's voice is a seething whisper. "So what are we supposed to tell his family? I'm sorry, your brother's dead and his body just got_ lost in the mail_?" He runs a hand through his hair.

"We're doing all we can, sir."

"Yeah, I'll bet." He glares at the guard. "Wasn't the room guarded?"

The young man nods quickly. "Nobody was allowed into the building without authorisation, sir."

"Oh, well that makes it okay, then. The bodysnatcher had _authorisatio_n. Or d'you mean to tell me that he just got up and walked out on his own?"

Gwen lays a hand on Jack's shoulder in a vain attempt to soothe him. "Wouldn't be the only one, would he?" she whispers, smiling.

Jack shoots one last glance at the trembling official before turning on his heel and striding back down the corridor. Gwen hurries to keep up with him. Halfway down the corridor, he turns to her. "Ianto's phone. We can trace it, right? Even if it's turned off, it had a tracker chip that we can use to locate it."

"Assuming whoever took him hasn't taken his phone from him." She looks at him in concern. "Jack, I know you're upset about this, but we have bigger problems right now. The children. We need to think about the children."

Jack shakes his head and keeps walking.

She grabs his arm. "Jack, you aren't thinking straight. We need to save the children!"

"We will save them."

"No, Jack. They need us _now_. Ianto's gone. We can't save him. We can still save them. _Jack_." She grips his arm more tightly, as though trying to stop him.

He stops of his own accord at the end of the corridor, and fixes her with a steely gaze. "The children are the symptoms, not the disease. It's the 456 we need to think of, not them."

"And not Ianto!"

"Yes, Ianto." He shakes her off his arm. "Have you replayed the footage from yesterday, Gwen? I have. Everybody in that building died. Why? To make an example?" He shakes his head. "That doesn't make sense. They could have made their point just by gassing the main room."

Gwen frowns at him. "Maybe they just wanted to make more of an impact. You heard them, Jack. They're willing to sacrifice millions of children. Two men dying wouldn't even make them blink. Particularly when they know that one of them would come back."

Jack looks at the floor, breathing slower than usual. "What if…what if they thought that both would come back?"

She bends down to meet his gaze. "Jack. What do you know that I don't?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head. "I don't know anything for sure."

Gwen crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Then what do you _think_?"

"I think we need to find him," Jack says simply.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter was difficult for me to write, because I had a conversation between Ianto and Jack that I really wanted to use next chapter. But this chapter fell a little short of a decent word count, and I ended up including one or two lines from it. **

**Before I get flames or whatever, I just want to point out that the end of this chapter is my personal interpretation. I know, I know, Janto FTW and what-not, but I think that their relationship dynamic had to change after Ianto's 'death', so I changed it. It might get back to how it was before, and it might not. I don't have this fic planned out. I'm letting the characters evolve at their own pace and I'm not forcing them into anything. This is just how I feel that it would have naturally changed - I tried to keep IC where possible.**

**Constructive criticism is ALWAYS appreciated (as a beta would be, if anyone wants to offer. =D), so please R&R. You guys are the ones keeping me going with this fic. It's because of the wide support that I've been getting that I've decided to really put my all into this, so I'll be attempting to update at 9pm each day (GMT, this is, for you non-Brits - just thought I'd mention that, because we now have 30 countries reading this, including an unidentified one that I'm convinced is some alien planet or other - HI GUYS!) so that we all get the daily dose of Torchwood that we have been deprived of since the ending of COE. Does it seem longer than two days to you guys? It seems it to me. **

**Anywho. Hope you enjoy, and again, please review!**

* * *

It's only as he walks out of the building - it isn't hard, the guards are looking the other way - that he realises he has absolutely no idea where he is. The skyline is dark, and cloudy. He makes an educated guess that he's still in London.

The details are harder to guess at. The streets are empty, and he can't see any road signs in the dim light of the streetlamps. He closes his eyes briefly, running his hands down his face. He still can't figure out how he's alive. He doesn't dwell on the thought; it would only drive him mad. Impossible is one thing when it comes to Jack, and quite another when it comes to himself. Impossibility is optional for Jack.

A slight smile escapes him even despite the circumstances. Jack has to be alive somewhere. All he has to do is find him. Gwen, too. Both of them have to be alive. He'd know otherwise, somehow. Somehow.

It's this same strange logic that reassures him that he hasn't missed much. The 456's ultimatum had been 24 hours, and it hasn't been that yet. It's dark, certainly, but the atmosphere isn't as sombre as it would be had the government already given in. And if they had refused, then everybody would be dead, even the guards. Hell, he'd be dead twice over. He smiles to himself again, wondering what Jack's track record is. A hundred? A thousand? He's never asked. He ought to. He ought to ask a lot of things.

The sound of a gunshot snaps him back to reality. His head whips in the direction of the noise, only to find nothing. Did he imagine it? Glancing up and down the street, there's nowhere for anybody to hide, really. And there isn't a soul to be seen. He stands and simply breathes for a moment, trying to calm himself down. There are certain situations in which small amounts of paranoia can help, but this isn't one of them.

Cautiously, he heads down the street, sticking close to the wall and staying under streetlamps where possible. A car screeches nearby, making him jump. He takes a deep breath. There's no need to panic. Nobody is after him. He's imagining things. He needs to calm down, have a cup of coffee. God, coffee would be so wonderful right now.

The street ends and breaks onto a main road, flooded with light from both lamps and late-night shops. A handful of people are walking up and down, arms clutching bags, and Ianto breathes a sigh of relief. Strange how, despite his paranoia of being followed by someone, he's still glad to see people. The world seems more normal with people.

Suddenly, a car screeches up directly beside him. His breath catches in his throat, and his feet are welded to the spot despite his overwhelming instinct to run. He watches, fixated, as the car door opens and a familiar man in a greatcoat steps out.

"Ianto Jones. How does it feel to cheat death?"

Ianto stares at him for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open. No words will come, but he's glad he didn't run. This moment is all that he wants - him and Jack, bathed in the light of the streetlamp above them, as though the poison never happened. Maybe it didn't. Maybe he imagined that along with the gunshot.

Part of him wants to believe that so much. Because that would mean that Jack's silence to his own whisper of "I love you" never existed.

There is silence between them now. Ianto swallows, looks up, smiles sadly. He knows it happened, however much he wants to believe otherwise, however impossible it seems. It happened. He doesn't want to relive that moment again. He wants to choose the right words this time.

"It's not as bloody easy as you make it look."


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm watching Season One while I'm writing these, and it's spawning off ideas. I may or may not include the Risen Mitten at a later point. However, it's nothing to do with Ianto's revival this time around. =P That should get explained in...two chapters' time. Maybe three. **

**I've gotten TONNES of story alerts, but some more reviews would be wonderful. Thank you all for your continued support. Hope you enjoy this episode, and I shall talk to you again tomorrow! =D**

* * *

Jack laughs at that. "Try it a few dozen times, you'll get the hang of it."

"Will I? I mean…" Ianto fingers his collar. "Am I…like you now? How did I survive? How-"

"I don't know," Jack cuts in. "Until we know for sure, try not to test it out."

Ianto looks at the ground. "Now you know what it feels like." He wants to say it loudly, to let Jack hear the emotion in his voice, but it comes out only as a murmur.

"What?"

He looks up at Jack, grimacing. "It's painful watching you die, Jack. You come back - you always come back - but…" He closes his eyes and grips one of his hands with the other, as though trying to restrain himself.

"But you still worry I won't?"

"Every time." Ianto's voice is a hoarse whisper.

Jack reaches out to grip Ianto's shoulder and ends up pulling him into a tight embrace. They stand there for a moment under the light, Ianto resting his head on Jack's shoulder, closer than words. Too close for words. Their chests rise and fall in time with each other, though Ianto's heart is thumping twice as fast as Jack's. "I meant it, you know."

Jack doesn't need to ask what he's referring to. It's clear enough from the way that Ianto's half-choking out the words. "I know."

"You told me not to."

"I know."

"You were meant to…meant to say it back. I wanted you to say it back."

"I _know_," Jack snaps, only for his voice to soften an instant later. "I'm sorry. I couldn't."

Ianto breathes in sharply. "Why not?" His voice is strained, his jaw set. He doesn't want to ask the question, but he needs to know the answer.

Jack pulls away and just looks at him for a while. His hands are still gripping Ianto's arms firmly. "Ianto, what happens when someone dies?"

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not. Answer the question."

Ianto feels Jack's gaze on him and glances away. "I don't know."

"Take a guess."

He shrugs. "You see family and friends again. People you thought you'd lost."

He looks up again, and Jack meets his eye. "Exactly. I can't die, Ianto. Even if I wanted to - and there have been times I've wanted to, believe me - I couldn't. Those who've died - Suzie, Owen, Tosh, all of them… I won't ever see them again. And they won't see me again, either." Ianto bites down on his lip. He knows where Jack's going with this even before he says it. "If I said it back, you would have waited for me. You might not have wanted to, but you would have done. I don't want you to waste an eternity waiting for me." Jack looks away. "That's why I couldn't say it."

Ianto bites down even harder on his lip, furiously blinking back tears. "I'd cheat death forever if you asked me to." His voice cracks even as he says it.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." Jack turns away without another word, walking back to the car and climbing into the driver's seat.

"I'm serious." Ianto slides into the seat beside him, smiling sadly while Jack starts up the engine. "A few dozen tries and I'd get the hang of it."

"Ianto?"

He looks across at Jack in confusion, only just catching the mobile as it gets thrown towards him.

"Shut up sending me on a guilt trip and phone Gwen. She might like to know you're alive."

"Right." Ianto holds the phone in his hand for a moment, fingers hovering over the keypad, then places it in his lap. "Where is she?" he asks quietly.

Jack sneaks a glance across at him as he navigates their way back through the narrow alleyway. "Back at base. Torchwood One. She's trying to get in touch with Lois and Rhys."

"I'd better not block the phone line, then," Ianto murmurs, almost to himself. He stares at the phone screen until the backlight turns itself off, then gazes out of the window instead. The backstreets all look very much the same - dimly lit and empty of people, some with miniature archways hidden in the brickwork. Ianto traces the archways with his eyes as they pass. His gaze strays across a crouched figure in the darkness of one such arch. "Jack. Stop the car. JACK!"

The car screeches to a halt once more.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is given with complete love for all your wonderful words of encouragement. You (yes, you, the reviewer in the back row!) are the ones who keep me going even when the words run dry. **

**I also urgently need a researcher/beta, as I'm unable to access the episodes any more. If anybody has Sky+ or similar and can give me certain info, that would be very helpful. I don't want to ask for the info here as it might give away some of the plot, and I want to keep you all on the edges of your seats. XD**

**As a sort of reward for your warm welcome into the fandom, this chapter is a little longer than the previous ones, and I've got a little something up my sleeve for a couple of chapters' time. It's a little thing I believe they call 'Janto' around these parts. =D And you know what's even better? It's detrimental to the plot. That's right, you heard me. **

**If you're confused as to how I'm going to do that, hang around for a couple of da****ys and find out. In the meantime, please review, and recommend the fic to friends! We had 710 hits the other day. I want to see if we can reach 1000 one day. 3 Love you all.**

* * *

Jack steps from the car, gripping his gun firmly in his hand. The figure in the archway notices their advance and flinches back against the wall. Walking closer, its face becomes visible. "Jack, lower the gun. It's just a child." Ianto moves cautiously towards the child, holding one hand out. The child whimpers.

"Shit," Jack mutters, lowering his gun gradually to his side. "Looks like somebody already beat me to the shot." He kneels beside the young girl, inspecting her left arm. It's bleeding profusely, staining the thin nightdress that she is wearing in contradiction to the cold weather. Her face is streaked with both blood and tears.

Ianto crouches beside Jack. "Do you think she escaped the government's roundup?"

"Could be," Jack answers. He catches the girl's eye. "Can you tell us your name?"

The child responds only by shaking, or possibly shivering. It's hard to tell. Jack sighs. "Ianto, you're driving."

Ianto only just catches the keys as they are thrown at him. He stares at Jack as the captain picks the child from the ground and carries her across to the car. He places her on the back seat before turning back to Ianto, who is stood in the same spot as before, holding the keys loosely in his hand and looking confused. Jack raises an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"I don't know the way," Ianto says simply, shrugging his shoulder.

Jack swipes the keys back from his outstretched hand. "Fine. Get in the back, take care of the kid. Okay?" Ianto nods and does as instructed, tearing off a sleeve of his shirt and tightening it around the child's wound. He applies the necessary pressure himself. The girl still appears to be in too much shock to respond to instructions, though Ianto makes several attempts to get her to speak on the journey back, if only to distract her from the pain she must be enduring.

By the time the car pulls up outside the increasingly familiar warehouse that was one Torchwood One, the bleeding has slowed, and her crying has stopped altogether.

Gwen looks up from the laptop in surprise as the three of them enter the base. "Oh my God, Ianto!" She runs up and throws her arms around him, clutching him tightly as though trying to reassure herself that he isn't a ghost. "You're alive. You're alive, oh my _God_, you're _alive_!" She pulls back, breathless but grinning stupidly.

He grimaces. "Yeah, still getting used to that myself."

She wipes her hand across her face, still smiling for all she's worth. Suddenly, she seems to notice Jack. "And you're…carrying a child." She looks at him in confusion.

"You make it sound as though I'm pregnant." His mouth quirks. "Well, wouldn't be the first time."

Ianto shoots a sideways glance at him, simultaneously looking both worried and horrified. "I really wish I knew you were joking."

This just makes Jack's grin widen. He gently lifts the child down to her feet before handing her over to Gwen. "She has a bullet wound on her left arm that needs treating, and I think she's suffering from shock or trauma of some sort."

"OK." Gwen nods, bending over slightly and taking the child's hand.

"We should have a medical kit in our van." Another woman is just about visible on the other side of the room, standing beside what Ianto can only guess is a body.

Gwen follows his gaze. "Clem," she says, her voice soft. "The noise that they made last time… It…" She takes a deep breath. "He didn't make it."

Jack claps her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gwen."

She shakes her head. "Not your fault, Jack." She turns back to the other woman, grimacing. "That would be great, thanks." The woman exits, taking the child with her, and Gwen turns back to fill Jack and Ianto in. "I've been in contact with Rhys, but I haven't been able to get through to Lois yet. I've been following reports on the web, pirate stations, that sort of thing. Sounds like they have most of the children rounded up already. And apparently John Frobisher's gone missing, too."

"All kicking off, then." Jack runs his fingers through his hair. "You think they've taken him hostage?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know. I don't think so. They're trying to hush the media coverage, but I think that's because of the panic it would cause."

A new window suddenly crops up on the laptop, featuring shaky video footage of literally thousands of children herded together, their mouths moving in unison. Jack moves closer to the screen, transfixed by the images. "Gwen, can you turn up the sound?"

_Three--_ The connection quickly breaks, as does the quality of the footage. The team have to listen to the chant several times before they can make out the whole message. _Three are missing._

Gwen glances up at Jack. "What do they mean? Three children?"

"You'd think they'd be less picky." Ianto's expression is unreadable, though he doesn't tear his eyes from the screen, even for a second.

"Not a chance. They're addicts." Jack stares at the video in disgust. "They'll take every child they can get their hands on."


	6. Chapter 6

**We've now got more than 50 people with this story on their alerts list, and readers from 38 different countries, and it would be lovely to get reviews from you all. Even just a few words helps to keep me going. Though, of course, full-on crit is also appreciated. =D As is recommending this fic to friends.**

**I just want to give thanks to my info-beta Aqua-lily6 for all her wonderful help when I forgot the names of various characters. Also, I'd like your opinions on what first name Agent Johnson should have. I was thinking Anna, but if anybody has any other ideas, I'm open to suggestions. Because yes, I intend for her to stick around for a while. **

**I also want to give shout-outs to Frances and Ros, as spontaneous fangirl squealing in the middle of the street is ALWAYS awesome. XD Love you guys. **

**And I hope to raise a few smiles by the end of this chapter. Once again, please let me know what you think!**

* * *

The woman from before re-enters. "I've treated the wound and given her a sedative. She's sleeping in the truck."

"Thanks." Gwen smiles at her.

Jack glances across. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Agent Johnson. I work for the state."

Jack smirks. "A government official, huh? Remind us to give you some Retcon later."

She looks at him suspiciously. "What's Retcon?"

"It's a drug that wipes your memory," Gwen explains. "To make you forget about Torchwood."

"That's against legal rights."

"So's child slavery, but the government's doing a pretty good job of that." Jack shoots her a nasty glance. "People in glass houses and all that."

"Even so," Johnson presses, "we're essentially on the same side. We're fighting against the 456. We're allies. You can trust me."

He smirks. "I'm sure. Just like we could trust Rupesh, right?" Her cheeks flush red as he continues. "Sorry, but we can't trust you not to talk."

"You can. I can be useful to you."

Jack rolls his eyes. "All in favour of trusting a government official, raise your hands." No hands go up. "So that makes it three votes against one, assuming you want to vote for yourself. Besides, there's nothing you can offer us. We have the most advanced technology on the planet, and databases of information at our fingertips. There's nothing else we need."

"I can offer you experience. I've been part of the government for the best part of eight years now. I know inside information." Jack looks unimpressed, but she continues nonetheless, holding her head high. "For example, I can tell you that the girl that you brought in is John Frobisher's younger daughter."

She spies a momentary expression of surprise on Jack's face and seizes the opportunity to continue, to prove herself. "John Frobisher is dead. That girl is his only surviving family member. Which means that the only government contacts that you have now are through me."

"We still have Lois."

"I doubt she'll be much help to you. I just radioed in to check on her status. She's currently being detained in an underground cell." She glares at Jack. "It's too late in the day to be clinging to the rule book, Captain. You have no choice but to trust me."

"She's right." Gwen looks across at Jack. "We have bigger problems right now. It won't take them long to find three more children. They might be slowed slightly by overprotective parents, or if they insist on finding the missing three in particular, but… I think saying we have half an hour is pushing it.

Jack doesn't say anything for a moment; instead, his gaze is fixed upon Clem. "Why did they kill him?"

"I don't think they did it on purpose. It was more like…severing a connection." Gwen looks across at his limp form, her lower lip trembling.

Ianto frowns for a second and looks up at Jack. "How did they collect the children before?"

"Light. There was a great burst of light, and the children walked into it and disappeared."

"Like beaming them up," Gwen mutters.

"Then why not just take the children?" Ianto asks. "Why blackmail us to get permission? It can't be because they were worried about war. They must know that their technology is superior to ours. So what were they worried about?"

Johnson steps forward. "Adults." All three members of the Torchwood team turn to look at her. "The soldiers have orders to step back as soon as the children are assembled."

Jack nods slowly. "That…makes sense. That's why they rejected Clem, wasn't it? Because he'd hit puberty?"

"So…the hormones are toxic to them?" Gwen frowns.

"Could be."

"So we can threaten them with a teenager, then. That level of raging hormones must be lethal," Johnson points out.

"The gases in that tank are toxic to humans. Even a few seconds in there without protection would be suicide." Jack glares at her. "You're suggesting we sacrifice an innocent child."

"One child!" She looks at him furiously. "One child, or six million? Think about it, Captain."

"No. We aren't sacrificing anybody. There has to be another way."

"There isn't!" she hisses. "Captain, we have twenty minutes, maybe less. Let the blood be on my hands if you must, but lives are at stake!"

Ianto clears his throat, causing the rest of the team to look over at him. "I might… have another solution. I'm not sure it will work, though." His cheeks are tinged with red.

"What is it?" Johnson demands.

He clears his throat again, scratching his neck. "Well… We need somebody who won't die in that chamber. And we need their hormones to be strong enough to kill the 456." Gwen nods slowly. "Well, we have Jack, and…" He pulls a small object from his waistcoat pocket. "And I have a stopwatch."

**UPDATE: My computer gave me the Blue Screen of Death this morning, so updates will be delayed until it is fixed (or until I can find a wonderful friend to upload for me). Hope to write again soon for you guys, though. 3**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm really sorry to you all for not updating yesterday - my computer crashed and had to be completely wiped. I lost everything, including my folders of Ianto icons - woe is me! We managed to get the computer back up and running by 9pm, but then I had to do schoolwork, and...urgh. The night just dragged on. I didn't end up sleeping until midnight, then had to get up again at 5. So, sorry for no chapter last night. However, I have extended this chapter by about 25 percent in a brief attempt to make it up to you, and I've tried to keep it as exciting as I can! **

**I'd like to thank those of you who emailed/messaged me in a panic, wondering why I hadn't updated and if I was OK. I am, don't worry (a few of my friends have gone down with swine flu, but I haven't yet - and even when I do, I won't stop updating), though thank you for your concern. Love you all. **

**Since nobody suggested an alternative name, Agent Johnson is now Anna. I'm undecided as to whether she will be friend or foe in the end, but she'll be a main character for some time, and you won't know for a long while. Largely because I don't know yet. We shall wait and see. **

**Hope you enjoy the chapter! Please R&R!**

* * *

Some minutes later, Jack returns, holding his arms out to the side as he approaches Gwen. "What do you think? Do I smell hormonal enough to you?"

"You certainly smell sweaty enough." She laughs, covering her nose with her hand.

"Close enough!" Jack's grin falls slightly as he remembers. "Oh, by the way...I think Ianto may need a new shirt."

"I noticed earlier. Should just be able to repair the sleeve."

Ianto himself re-enters the room, clutching the tattered remains of his shirt to his chest. "No, I...I'm fairly sure I'll need a new one."

Gwen's eyes widen at the sight. "What—"

Jack shrugs, grinning and remorseless. "If we had five minutes to save the world, I wasn't going to waste three of them waiting for him to get undressed." Jack appears totally at ease, though Ianto's face reddens somewhat.

Gwen shakes her head. "Fine. Anna, you don't happen to have a spare shirt, do you?"

"Anna?" Jack smirks. "What happened to Agent Johnson?"

She glares at him as she throws a camouflage shirt at Ianto. "As I said, Captain, it's a little late to be clinging to the rulebook."

Jack quirks an eyebrow at her. "Informal. I like it." He claps his hands and begins discussing the plan with them, though Ianto getting dressed in his line of vision distracts him considerably. Not that he hasn't seen it many times before, but he'd never purposefully miss a chance to see it again.

A few minutes later, and a fully-clothed Ianto is sitting in the back of the moving truck, much to Jack's general dismay. The two of them are shooting sidelong glances at each other every few seconds, though neither of them speaks a word. The atmosphere is too awkward. After all, even despite being on a first-name basis now, the woman driving is almost a stranger to them. She had offered to stay behind and look after Holly, but it had made more sense to leave Gwen. Anna would be useful in a military-controlled situation, whereas Gwen was familiar with their equipment and was able to keep in regular contact with them.

It takes them a painstaking ten minutes to drive back to Thames House, by which point everyone is aware of how little time there is left. Yet even despite the undeniable urgency with which they approach, several guards and soldiers attempt to stop them. Anna silences them with a wave of her hand. "They're with me. Back to your stations." She repeats this to anyone and everyone who dares attempt to halt their advance. Ianto blinks in amazement as the soldiers fall back at her word. He wonders just how much power this woman really holds. Jack, on the other hand, merely notes the sudden fashion of gas masks among the soldiers with some amusement. Those not wearing them constantly are in the minority, and even then have them hanging close around their necks, within easy reach. For all their passive expressions, they are betraying their true emotion - fear.

Only one guard stands his ground, refusing to let them through the door to the 456. Yet even he gives way after Anna has found and showed him her ID. Jack smirks. Some of the soldiers might seem startled to be told to let Torchwood through, but none of them question authority. Anna is proving herself useful after all.

The room is unchanged, though the atmosphere echoes a cold silence from before. The tank still swirls with the unnerving blue clouds, masking the 456 from view for a few moments. Yet as soon as Jack steps forward, it moves closer to the glass. Ianto is reminded horribly of a Western style shoot-out. He half expects Jack to suddenly draw his gun and square off with the alien, before remembering the glass as bulletproof. He screws up his eyes briefly, takes a deep breath - anything to help his concentration. He knows what the alien in front of them is capable of; he knows he cannot afford to let his guard down for even a second.

Jack faces the alien for a long while, merely watching it. The 456 is equally motionless in the hushed room. To both Ianto and Anna, it seems as though there is some unknown conversation taking place. It would hardly surprise either of them were Jack to suddenly reveal powers of telepathy. No such revelations, however; he turns back to them and gives an authoritative nod. "All right. I'm going in."

Ianto nods slightly in return, watching the alien from the corner of his vision as Jack pulls on the body suit. No point in poisoning either him or the 456 straight away, after all; they came here to settle things peacefully if possible. The room is eerily silent while Jack enters the tank. It's only as he shoots them a cheeky grin and waves that Ianto relaxes slightly. He might survive it if the 456 decided to gas them again, but it would be painful. He had firsthand experience, and it hadn't been pleasant. But Jack is in the tank, metres from the 456, and everything appears fine. From the way that the alien is pulling away, he guesses it already knows that they have found its weakness.

Anna glances over at him, smiling despite the mounting tension. Possibly even because of it. Ianto can't blame her for wanting to break the awkward silence that's quickly developing in the room.

"So. I didn't realise the infamous Captain Jack swung that way." She regards him for a moment, as though judging his reaction.

Ianto allows himself a guilty little smile. "Oh, Jack swings all over the place. Men, women, aliens... Apparently also a cat, though I'm not entirely sure that one's true."

She nods noncommitally, not entirely sure of the appropriate response to this. "So how long have the two of you been together?"

"Six months?" Ianto scratches his ear. "Before that, every now and again. Hard to say, really."

Their conversation is disrupted as Jack's approach causes the 456 to lash angrily against the tank. Ianto can see him laughing even through the glass and the swirling gases. "Trying to frighten me? You're scared enough for both of us, aren't you?" A lengthy pause. "That's right. And unless you do as we say, we will kill you."

Anna turns to Ianto. "What's he doing?"

"Sounds like he's having a nice little chat with it."

"How can he be? The translating device has been removed from the room."

"Jack can automatically understand alien languages," Ianto explains. "He always said it was a souvenir of his travels with the mysterious Doctor." He rolls his eyes slightly.

"Ah, yes. The mysterious Doctor." Anna smirks. "You don't know much about him, then?"

Ianto's face falls for the briefest of moments. "No. Jack tends to change the conversation topic fairly sharply."

Anna laughs at that. "And you aren't the slightest bit jealous? Boyfriend not telling you about the men of his past. Dangerous sign."

She means it as a joke, but Ianto has to fight to keep the smile on his face. "There was nothing between them. Not like that."

"Oh?" She grins devilishly at him. "How can you be sure?"

"There just...wasn't." Ianto looks away, back to Jack, and is thankful that Anna has the tact to quickly drop the conversation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Today's shout-out goes to Misty, the best teacher I've ever had. =D I'll miss you, miss (and LOL at keeping the wrapping paper)! **

**I literally only just managed to finish this chapter on time, because so much of it was written on the spur of the moment. I wrote it, but made so many last-minute changes while I was typing it up. **

**I hope this offers some stranger explanation of how Ianto survived. I'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting, but it's the most logical explanation for me. Besides, this is only what Jack thinks, and we all know that Jack is not always right. **

**Please R&R!**

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Inside the tank, Jack is oblivious to their conversation. He's holding his own one with the 456, though the others would only be able to understand his side of it - that is, assuming that they were even able to hear him through the glass.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He doubts that the 456 can understand of even see his glare through the scratched helmet of the body suit, although this doesn't stop him in the slightest. He jerks his head in Ianto's general direction. "How did you know he was going to survive?"

A brief pause. "We smelled him."

"What do you mean?" Jack eyes the alien with distrust. "You mean you could sense he had some sort of immunity to the poison?"

"We smelled him," the 456 repeats, its voice slow as though in thought. "On you."

"What's that got to do with anything?" The tone of Jack's voice is no less forceful or angry than it was before, but his growing curiosity is undeniable. The conversation is dragging by, and for a split second, he wishes he could just pull a gun on the alien and make it talk the old-fashioned way. But his gun is trapped inside the body suit along with him. Besides, he's a weapon himself - he could kill the 456 at any moment; pulling out a gun wouldn't be any more of a threat than he already is.

The 456 does not reply. Instead, it shrieks violently once more, slamming against the walls of the tank and spraying grey sludge in all directions.

Jack wipes the residue from his helmet with a grimace. He wonders if there's any reason for the alien's sudden fits, or whether it's merely expressing its indignation. "Answer me!" He takes a step forward. "If I take off this suit, both of us die. Except that you can't get back up again afterwards, can you?" He is standing less than a metre from the 456 by this point, deliberately mocking it.

The alien responds with what can only be described as a growl. "The others would attack."

Jack nods, smirking. "Except that there aren't any others, are there? You're the only one. We've been monitoring the 456 frequency, and you haven't been communicating with anyone. You're up against Torchwood now, not the government. We're not so easily beaten."

"You are...confident."

"You bet." Jack flashes it a cheesy grin, though there's no real emotion behind it. Not even confidence - not that he'd ever admit that. As ever, he's the showman.

"Then why not kill me?"

"Because. In the seconds before you died, you could wipe out everybody in this building. Again." Jack narrows his eyes. "I won't allow anybody else to die. They've all been through enough already. No more bloodshed."

The 456 leans towards him, its heads bobbing in eerie unison. "You propose a truce?"

"That's right. We'll let you leave this planet alive if our three conditions are met. Your choice."

There is silence for a moment within the tank.

"What are your conditions?" Its voice is low, strained.

Jack lets a quick grin escape him before his serious face returns. "Firstly, you are not to take any more children. Secondly, you are to answer my previous question. How did Ianto survive?" The desperation in his voice is clear. He needs this question answered, needs to know the truth of what happened. Needs to know if somebody else now shares his curse - and how, why. Questions overload his brain, have been doing for several hours. Even so, he keeps himself steady, composed and in control. That's all he has.

"...We do not know."

"You do know. You have to know." Jack's tone is accusatory now, more desperate than ever. The 456 knows. It has to. Somebody has to have the answers to his ever-pressing questions, and who else would it be? He grips the fastening of one glove with his other hand. "Answer me, or I will kill you. You know I will."

When the 456 replies, its voice is quieter than ever. Sombre, almost. "I know."

"Then answer me!"

"I cannot. I do not know the answer." The flicker of fear, of panic in its voice, causes Jack to hesitate for the briefest of moments. Not least because to kill it now would defy the entire point of him even being here in the first place.

The 456 looks at him for a moment, and Jack can see its pity - both for itself and for him. "You...attempted to revive him."

Jack looks up. "What?"

"Healing is attributed to your physical contact. Was it not an attempt to revive him?"

_Right._ So it meant the kiss. Jack laughs mirthlessly. He's in a tank with an alien that gets high from children. Both of them have the power to kill each other. And the alien is attempting to rationalise an impossible event in an effort to save its own skin. It's almost too ludicrous. But then, Jack's seen stranger, and is far too concerned with getting the answer than with the oddity of the situation. "That's not how he survived, though." It can't be. "I was already too close to death myself by that point. I had no energy left to give." He knows. He would have given it if he could. Would have given his own life if he could.

It's then that a strange and equally impossible explanation occurs to him. His death is impossible. And maybe, just maybe, Ianto still living is slightly less impossible. If something can be so close to impossible that it's only possible when it would be more impossible for it not to occur, then...

Then Jack's head might just explode from over-theorising. But in some impossible way, it makes sense. If Ianto dying meant that he would die, then Ianto would have lived. Quite possibly, Jack had tried so hard to bring Ianto back to life that he had given more of him than it was possible to give. If Ianto hadn't lived, then Jack might have died. But that was impossible. Ever so slightly more impossible than what had actually happened.

And then, with absolutely no warning, Jack collapses to his knees. If he had known, if he had realised this earlier... he could have saved them. Owen. Tosh. He could have saved them, all of them. He could have manipulated the situation to become less impossible than his death, and saved them. It's too late now. He has failed them. And he will never see them again to ask their forgiveness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Oh dear. I think I may have confused some of you with yesterday's installment. Sorry about that, guys. I'm glad that most of you got the gist of it. And if it helps at all, I don't think that Jack quite gets it, either. **

**The story is close(ish) to being finished now, perhaps three or four chapters left. I have a lot of loose ends to wrap up. Oops? Haha, it's all completely intentional. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. But I doubt that I shall be ending this fic. I will, however, need a break to gather my thoughts, so I'll be leaving a sneak preview once all this is said and done, and then there will be no updates for around a week while I get the entire next season sketched out. **

**But for now, on with this! (Oh, and AligningPlanets, you need to give me your phone number. I have nobody to text when I have silly Ianto moments, and it's beginning to get depressing.) I apologise if the quality of the writing is a little below par - I had to hurry to get this one finished because my mother was using the computer until half past seven, and it takes me over an hour to type up and edit these, because I usually end up rewriting half of it. On the bright side, she did use some of this computer time to buy me Torchwood DVDs, so I forgive her. Oh, and I was then distracted by a spot of crossdressing Jack and dom!Ianto. Hence, most of this chapter was written while my level of intelligence had been knocked down to simply "GUH." Hope you like it anyway. **

**Please read and review and rec!**

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Ianto watches as Jack falls to the floor of the tank, the strangely coloured gases distorting the movement as though he is falling in slow motion. For a second, he thinks that the 456 has done something. Then he realises his own foolishness - of course the alien has done something; Jack wouldn't just collapse of his own accord. Yet he has fallen only to his knees and no further. His ever-familiar self-restraint.

Ianto has no such self-control. Before he is even aware of commanding his legs to move, he is beside the tank, mere metres from Jack and separated only by the walls of the tank itself. His hands bear down against the glass, as though he is the one trapped by it.

Jack does not turn to face him, cannot bear to. Yet from the corner of his vision, he can see Ianto's nose pressed against the glass, see him mouthing silenced words, see his eyes creasing at the corners. He has seen them do that several times before, as he has lain dying - as though buckling under the pressure of tears that are forbidden to fall. And Jack finds his head turning before he can stop himself. Ianto's face is set in determination, every last ounce of focus concentrated into getting his message across. Jack watches as his lips part and meet in an almost rhythmic motion, emphasising each desperate syllable.

_Are you okay?_

Jack nods, watches the flicker of a smile dance its way across Ianto's face. _Remember the plan_. Jack nods again, more decisively this time. He knows he cannot afford to let anybody else down. This time the smile lingers on Ianto's face. _Okay then. Be careful_. His fingertips drift for a moment against the glass before his gaze breaks away from Jack and he retakes his position beside Anna.

She has been watching only with quiet concern, never leaving her required permission. Such a soldier. She turns to him now, eyebrows meeting in a slight frown. "What's going on?"

Ianto doesn't immediately recognise that she is speaking; she does it from the corner of her mouth and her eyes never quite meet his.

"Nothing," Ianto lies. "Just a minor blip." He tries to conceal the shake of his own voice, tries not to think about how relieved he'll be when Jack is finally back out of the tank and when all this is over. Mostly, he simply tries to hide how scared he is. This room is unpleasant for anyone, but he can scarcely breathe. The air is thick with memories of his own death. It feels wrong to be here. This room reminds him that he ought to be dead, hisses in his ear that he has no right to be alive. He swallows, hand resting just above his gun. As though fear could be destroyed by swift, cold steel.

He wonders if Jack has these same thoughts. If he does, how many places are there that are like this for him? How many times has he stepped in the footprints of his own death, felt shivers circuit through his entire body? Ianto shakes his head, dismissing the thought. There is no point in asking Jack, he knows. He would change the conversation topic, drop it entirely, lie. According to Jack, Jack never gets scared. And Ianto likes it better that way. He wants Jack to be fearless because he knows that he's terrified enough himself to make up for both of them.

As though aware of Ianto's thoughts, Jack heaves himself back to his feet, commanding himself to stay strong and appear the leader. He faces the 456 once more. "The third condition," he says, rapidly regaining his composure, "is that you are to release the children that are already in your possession, and leave this planet for good."

The alien shrieks in dissatisfaction, and once more spits greyness across the tank. Jack doesn't even bother to wipe it this time. As the noise dies down, however, he is sure that he hears the alien laughing. Laughing. There is no other way to describe it.

"They will die," it replies, the glee evident in its voice. "They have outlived their lifespan. When they are disconnected, they will die."

If the 456 expects this to shock Jack, it is disappointed. Jack merely smirks straight back at it. "So disconnect them."

"The children will die."

"As they should." Jack's voice is passionate with anger, but nothing more.

"As you should." If the 456 is capable of sneering, then it is doing so now.

Jack raises his eyebrows. "...Yeah."

The 456 hisses, drawing itself back, and for a moment Jack thinks it is about to lash out and strike him down. But instead, it roars forwards, disconnecting the child mid-movement and sending them flying across the tank. The crack of its head against the glass echoes throughout both the tank and the room. If the child wasn't dead as it was connected, it certainly is now. Yet it is painfully obvious that the 456 was speaking the truth; no blood gushes from the child's split shell. The child has been dead for a long, long time. An empty child.

Jack closes his eyes briefly, turns away, ignoring the broken body lying in the corner. Just another death to add to the count. If he thinks of them as numbers, it's easier. Because then they aren't human, and then he doesn't blame himself for them. Just a number, just like the 456. That's how he knows he could kill the alien in front of him without any hesitation. It doesn't have a name, and it isn't human.

And he will kill it, unless it obeys. "Leave. Now."


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow. Okay, this was the first chapter that I wrote entirely on the computer, without a draft of any sort, and only a vague (and I mean VAGUE) inkling of where it was going. However, I'm incredibly pleased at how it turned out, and I hope that you are, too. When I finished and glanced at the wordcount, I was pretty shocked - over 1,100 words of fic alone, A/N not included. I'm very pleased with that - I thought it might fall short of the 1K average, to be perfectly honest. But it exceeded it, and was finished nearly two hours early, so I might even start writing the next chapter. **

**I think, the way that this fic is going, that it might end up with fourteen chapters. This shouldn't make me as happy as it does. **

**Also, apologies for the slight timeskip early on; it was necessary. At first, I felt like I was being a coward by taking this way out of the 456 problem. But as I wrote it, I realised that this isn't the end. Not only will Jack not forgive himself for this, but somebody else won't be too pleased, either. A certain someone who will be the guest star of the first episode of the next season of Fourteen. And this chapter has a slightly bittersweet ending that might not make sense until tomorrow's update, which I'm REALLY looking forward to writing. =D**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, anyway. I'm told that Ch9 was my best yet, so perhaps I should read more Janto before writing? XD Let's see how you react to this chapter to see if that's true or not. Don't forget to R&R!**

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There is silence in the tank, save for the slight hum of nearby machinery that has gone unnoticed in the background. Jack can hear himself breathing, heavier and slower than usual. The 456 is still to the eye, its tiny movements only a result of the swirling gases within the tank. They watch each other, unmoving. Breathing becomes harder and more focused. Jack's grip tightens on the fastening of his glove. "I told you to...leave." His voice is not nearly as commanding as he wishes, for he has neither the breath nor the energy to appear intimidating any longer. His throat is dry, his mouth hardly able to form the words that his brain communicates. "Now," he chokes out. The 456 remains motionless in the tank, and he struggles towards it, legs like lead, in a vain attempt to get it to react.

Before he can reach it, however, the entire tank appears to swim alongside the gases it contains, and he collapses into darkness.

Some time later, he wakes with another large gasp, body craving fresh oxygen. There is none. He can smell the sulphurous air surrounding him, has just enough time to retch before the darkness descends once more.

And then it happens again, and he registers Ianto pressed up against the glass once more, face contorted in horror and shouting silenced words. He sees Anna running towards the tank as well, a momentary lapse in her ever-calm face. Even before she arrives at Ianto's side, Jack is lost in the darkness once more.

-

"Come on. Wake up, come on." Jack can feel hands rubbing against his cheeks, ruffling through his hair. And he knows that accent, that undeniable concern in his murmurs. "Wake up, Jack."

A smile creeps across Jack's face before he even considers opening his eyes. "Ten more minutes," he whispers.

Ianto laughs then - a wonderful laugh of relief that betrays just how worried he was. He adjusts his position on the floor, and Jack realises with a growing smile that he is lying propped in Ianto's lap. He opens his eyes, sees Ianto beaming back at him.

A heap of blue material is thrown just inches from Jack's face. "Glad to have you back, Captain." Anna regards him for a moment before her stiff expression eases into a smirk.

Jack pulls the coat towards him and sits up. As he does so, he notices Ianto massaging his own leg, and wonders how long he must have been lying there for it to go numb. "You okay?"

"Fine." Ianto's smile is just a bit too sudden, a bit too bright. They both know they aren't simply talking about his leg.

Jack gazes at him for a second, weighing up circumstance, and decides that Anna's presence in the room is somewhat of a hindrance. "You owe me ten minutes."

And there's that bashful smile that's growing ever so familiar. "Right you are, sir," Ianto replies. "I'll be sure to work overtime."

Anna glances between them, aware that some sort of unspoken conversation is taking place. She's been on too many undercover missions before not to realise when people are speaking in code, and the two of them are being painfully obvious. It's Jack that remedies the awkward atmosphere, turning to her and regaining his brisk and businesslike tone. "What happened?"

"There was a small tear in the fabric," Anna says, gesturing towards the body suit crumpled on the floor. Another lies next to it, and Jack realises that one of them must have gone in to fetch him after he collapsed. Again. Somehow, he doubts that it was Anna.

Jack nods, more to show understanding than agreement. He doesn't agree with this at all. This was never meant to happen, wasn't part of the plan. In spite of all the threats, he had never truly intended to follow through with any of them unless there was any other choice. The tank is horribly still. The child, what is left of it, lies in the corner, in as much of a crumpled heap as the suit. The 456 merely continues to float, motionless and weightless amidst the gases. A chill hits Jack's spine. He wiped this race out.

"It was an accident." Ianto is by his shoulder. Jack didn't even notice him move. "It was an accident, and nobody will blame you."

It's a lie; Jack will blame himself, and they both know it. Possibly Anna knows it, too.

"He's right. Under the circumstances, you're a hero. You defeated the enemy, Captain. There is no shame in that. We gave it an ultimatum, and it declined."

"It didn't answer," Jack argues. "That's not the same as declining. A few seconds more, and it might have left peacefully."

"You said it yourself, it was an addict." Anna glares at him. "It wouldn't have yielded to our demands."

"We don't know that."

"Nor do we know that it would have left. Captain, as the leader of this team, you need to be realistic, not idealistic. What happened was not your fault, and millions of children have been saved because of your actions. No human casualties. I'd call this mission nothing short of a success." Yet there is a distinct lack of pride in her words.

Their conversation is interrupted by Gwen's voice over the com. "Everything all right over there? Ianto? Is Jack all right?"

Obviously they'd been talking while he'd been in the darkness, or in the tank. Ianto moves to reply, but Jack beats him to it. "I'm fine, Gwen. Get in touch with Rhys, call him back to base. We have a lot to sort out, and that footage might speed along some of the paperwork."

"Red tape," Ianto comments, smiling at Anna. "Even Torchwood gets caught up in it sometimes."

She grimaces and pulls out her own radio transciever. "All units pull back. Target has been eliminated." She ends the call with an abrupt sigh. Jack glances across at her, notes her head still held high. Distorted and confused replies flood back through her radio, and she uses it once more. "I said pull back. That's an order. And release Lois Habiba while you're at it." Then she switches it off, stores it back in her pocket.

"You skimped a little on the details." Jack raises his eyebrows at her.

"No need to unnecessarily complicate things."

Jack glances across at Ianto, though his gaze is not met. Ianto is distracted, talking anxiously across the com to Gwen. Jack continues to stare. "You might be right."


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay, so I take back everything I said last A/N about what would be happening in this chapter, because I decided to write it straight onto the computer, and it ran away from me into the fluffy world of Janto. Besides, I think the pacing's been a bit fast lately, and I wanted to write a quiet scene for once - I have a feeling this will be my last chance for a while. The next couple of chapters should be back to the gritty stuff again, as the team have to sort out the aftermath of the 456's departure, though there's no guarantee that it will be fully resolved for some time yet. **

**Originally, I was going to have an argument here between Jack and Ianto, but while I was writing it, their reactions changed, and it became calmer and... well, a lot fluffier. More of a moment between them. Enjoy it while it lasts, because Jack's words at the end of Chapter 10 have still to come to a proper resolution, and something will definitely be made of them. Any of you who have read my writing before will know that I don't do Hollywood romances, and that I can't help but drag relationships through the rose bushes and under the hedges several times. No rainbows and fluffy bunnies here, I'm afraid.**

**Special shout-outs to ZedPM, SexySiri, FinalFallenFantasy, Liria Nai, Adele, and Aqua-lily6 for sticking with me through everything. I love you all. **

**Regardless of broken promises, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please remember to R&R! We'll be hitting 100 reviews with this chapter! Woo! (And we broke 7000 hits last night, so well done, guys!) To celebrate, I made the chapter a bit longer than usual. =D Enjoy!**

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It isn't until the three of them are outside again that Anna finally decides to leave them alone. She isn't part of Torchwood; she has her own duties to attend to and she knows that she is only intruding upon matters that are hardly her concern. She leaves the two of them in order to organise the withdrawal of troops from Thames House, without a word of farewell. It's unsaid, but they all know that it isn't as though they'll never see her again. For one thing, they still have a lot of red tape to sort out.

But now isn't the time to worry about that. Neither Jack nor Ianto are in any condition to be wasting time, but by unspoken consent they find themselves idling around nearby. Admittedly, there is some small excuse that Anna has the truck, though there are countless other ways that they could get back to base. No rush, though.

Ianto sits down on one of the short walls that line the steps, head resting in his hands. He stares at the ground, not wanting to concentrate on the hive of activity nearby, on the chaos and the aftermath.

"You came into the tank to get me." Jack's feet wander into his line of vision and stand rooted to the spot, close, but not close enough.

"Yes." Ianto's voice is muffled by the palm half-covering his mouth. He doesn't bother to remove it; doesn't feel like talking all that much right now.

He watches Jack's feet move closer towards him, feels him sit down alongside him. "Were you scared?"

"I'm always scared, Jack."

"You're brave, though. That's what counts."

Ianto glances up, finds Jack staring straight at him. He smiles. "Not the word that I'd use."

"I mean it, Ianto." Jack reaches out and places his hand on Ianto's leg. A telling gesture, but somehow still oddly formal. "You risk your life for Torchwood. That's more than I'll ever be able to claim."

"I don't have much choice," Ianto replies with a smile. "It's a job requirement."

That gets Jack grinning again. "You're coping well with it."

"I'm used to it by now." Ianto glances out at the cityscape, realises that night has already broken once more. On any other day, people around the country would be travelling home, relaxing in front of the television, kissing children goodnight. There won't be any of that tonight. Instead, they'll be going home to empty houses, staring sadly at empty beds. Realising that they have been robbed of their children.

He ought to call Rhiannon, knows he can't. Red tape. He won't be able to call her until the government have decided on an official story. She'll hear it from the media before she can hear it from him. That's just what being part of Torchwood means – knowing the danger, and having to keep quiet about it, even in front of loved ones. He glances across at Jack. "D'you ever really get used to it? All the aliens, all the lies, all the deaths, all the..."

"All the things that Torchwood sees?" Jack finishes, regarding him calmly. Ianto nods. "Eventually. After a few centuries." He grins.

Ianto smiles sadly, looks at Jack for a moment, then looks away. "You're lying."

Jack pauses for a moment. "...Yeah." He attempts a grin. "How'd you know?"

"I see scary things reflected in your eyes sometimes, Jack." Ianto isn't even looking at him anymore, is facing away at the horizon in an effort to get away from it all. It's impossible. There are too many people, too many soldiers, too many memories. He shakes his head. "I don't want to even imagine half of what you've seen. And that scares me."

Jack turns to him, grimacing. "Yeah, that javelin wasn't pretty." He looks at Ianto, hoping to find the flicker of a smile, but gets no such reaction.

"But sometimes," Ianto murmurs, "just sometimes...I start thinking it might be worth it. Living like you. Worth the heartbreak of seeing a thousand people I love disappear, just to make sure that you have someone that won't." He half-closes his eyes. "I don't know how you bear all the things you must have been through."

Jack reaches out and gently closes Ianto's eyelids fully. "In case there's a brighter future to look forward to. In case there's something better around the corner, whether it's a life that's saved or just...just a smile to be made." He breathes out heavily. "The same reason anybody on this planet finds the strength to wake up tomorrow, Ianto. Hope."

Ianto feels Jack's lips meet his briefly and then pull away. Without opening his eyes, he smiles, knowing that Jack is watching. Knowing that he can help to give Jack hope. After nearly a minute of blissful silence between them, he opens his eyes at last. "Not just the fact that you have no choice, then?"

Jack pulls a face, breathing in sharply. "Well, there is that, too." He grins. "Suicide gets boring after a while."

Ianto watches his expression, trying to judge whether or not he's teasing. It's difficult to tell, and he isn't sure if that bothers him or not. He isn't sure he wants to be able to tell if Jack is lying or not. It would ruin the mystery, take away the enigma that is such a crucial part of who Jack is. For a second, Ianto wonders if he really would still love Jack if he knew the truth, if he knew everything about the man sitting beside him. But there isn't any point in asking questions that have no answer. He'll never know everything – Jack isn't keen on telling, and even if he were, there must be things that he's forgotten over such a long time. But for now, Ianto realises that he doesn't need to know everywhere Jack has been; he's content knowing that Jack is here, right now, and sitting beside him.

"You two ready to go?" Anna is standing on the steps nearby, casting her gaze down to them.

Jack lifts his hand to his forehead, squinting into the darkness to see her. It's almost like a salute. Nearly all of the soldiers have cleared the area, with one or two staying behind to help the police set up barriers and prevent civilians from entering the area. "Sure. Coming, Ianto?"

Ianto heaves himself from the wall with a sigh and a smile. "Of course, sir."

"To Torchwood, then." Anna pulls a set of keys from her jacket and strides over to where the truck has been parked for some hours now. She doesn't bother to wait for the other two, instead letting them walk at their own pace.

As they walk, Jack sidles close enough to whisper in Ianto's ear. "You still owe me overtime."

Ianto is left smiling throughout the journey.


	12. Chapter 12

**This chapter took ages to write, and absolutely knackered me. I had to finish it by six so that I could have a Torchwood marathon after my guitar lesson and dinner - my DVDs arrived today, huzzah! **

**I'm also pleased to announce that there will indeed by fourteen chapters. For definite. The day after that, a special chapter will be going up, though I won't go into details just yet. It will have you looking forward to the next series, though, I promise. On Saturday, I'm away overnight, so there will be no chapter - but I'm taking that day off to plan the next episode anyway. **

**Hope you've enjoyed following Fourteen so far, and I'm sorry that so much of this chapter is dialogue. If it helps at all, it's still a longer chapter than usual. =D **

**Please R&R! We hit 100 reviews and 8000 hits last night! Wooooo! **

* * *

The warehouse is beginning to look more and more like an actual base. Nothing like it used to in the days of Torchwood One, but something about the wires trailing all over the place makes it feel more familiar.

Gwen looks across as they enter, but restrains herself from leaping up and hugging them again. Instead, she stays beside the laptop, pretending to be busy running some sort of program. Ianto can't help but think this has something to do with Rhys being in the room. He's stood protectively nearby her, regarding Jack and Ianto with less than a smile. It's nothing compared to his reaction to Anna, however. "What's she doing 'ere?"

Jack keeps a calm face. "She's with us."

"She was the one helping them take the ruddy children!"

"And you think I don't already know that?" Jack looks at him for just a second, but it's enough to silence Rhys' protests. "She's with us. End of discussion." Rhys continues to glower at both Jack and Anna, though he doesn't speak another word against them.

Jack turns to Gwen. "Have you got the footage?"

She nods. "All backed up. We have the original stored away in a secret location-" Her eyes flick briefly across to Anna. "-but there's a copy of the data on this that you can use." She hands Jack a small pen drive.

"You certainly make it clear when you dislike someone," Anna remarks with a smirk.

"We don't dislike you. We just can't trust you yet." Gwen forces a smile onto her face. "Took me three days to prove myself to Torchwood, and even then I got drugged and had my memory wiped." Ianto swallows, feeling slight guilt at his involvement in the matter. "It's a security measurement, nothing personal."

Anna doesn't seem convinced. "If you say so." She turns to Jack. "Ready?"

"What's going on now?" Rhys asks, frowning.

Jack rolls his eyes. "Look, Rhys. Not that I don't appreciate your help, but this is a Torchwood matter. Go home. Sleep. Watch TV. I don't care." He runs a hand through his hair. "Gwen, go with him. You're done for the day."

Gwen opens her mouth to protest, but Jack cuts her off with a simple hand gesture. "You need rest." He nods towards her belly. "You ought to catch up on sleep while you can. The first year'll be hell." He flashes her a cheesy grin. "Go on. We can handle things from here."

"Call me if you need anything, Jack," she says, pulling her bag onto her shoulder and glancing back at him. "I mean it."

"Go home!" Jack insists, using his hands to shoo her out of the door. It's obvious how irritated Rhys is getting, and she really does deserve the rest. They all do. But there are still certain matters to be dealt with.

While Anna helps Ianto to pack up the equipment, Jack strolls outside, flipping open the phone held in his hand and dialling an unfamiliar number. As he waits for it to be picked up, he glances into the back of the truck. The girl, Holly, is still completely knocked out. He wonders just how strong a sedative they gave her. Still, perhaps it's better that she doesn't wake up for a while. As soon as this is over, they can take her to a hospital, get her wound properly treated.

Just then, the line picks up. "Who is this?"

"This?" Jack replies with a smirk. "This is Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood Three. I trust you've heard of me."

The voice on the other end sounds panicked. "How did you get this number?"

"Know your enemy. Befriend them if possible. I got the number from Agent Anna Johnson of MI5." Jack just can't stop grinning. He wants to hear this man squirm after he ordered Torchwood wiped out. "The thing is, Mr Greene - sorry, I'd call you Prime Minister, but I hardly think that's applicable any longer - that Frobisher is dead. So you and I are the only ones that know the exact details of what happened all those years ago. I know you've already deleted the files."

"What are you after, Captain?" Greene sounds incredibly weary.

Jack laughs. "Well, now. I also have a copy of that video footage that I don't think any of the government really wants released. I'd say that right now, Torchwood is in a pretty powerful position, wouldn't you?"

"Captain. What are you after?"

"I want my family released, and I want their records wiped. It's too dangerous for them to be associated with me."

Greene clears his throat. "If you don't mind me saying, Captain, it's dangerous for anybody to be associated with you."

"All the more reason for you to do as I say."

A pause. "Continue."

"Glad we understand each other. Secondly, you've recently released someone named Lois Habiba. Have her sent to Torchwood. You know where we are. Oh, and have all charges against her dropped. A nice redundancy package wouldn't go amiss, either."

"She's a traitor to the crown," Greene argues.

"She worked for the government. What else would she be?" Jack smirks.

Greene's sigh is clearly audible on the other end of the line. "Very well, Captain. Consider your demands met. I want to see that footage destroyed.

"The footage isn't going to be destroyed."

"I don't quite understand, Captain."

"We won't be releasing that footage to the media. However, we need that footage as evidence of the 456, so we can't destroy it. Rest assured, it'll be kept in a safe location."

"Kept safe until Torchwood feels the need to blackmail us again." The anger in Greene's voice is clear.

Jack smirks, even knowing that Greene can't see him. "It won't be in Torchwood's possession. We won't have any more access to it than the government."

"Then who will?"

"Holly Frobisher."

"You can't leave something that important in the hands of a _child_, Captain."

"Oh, can't we? I think under the circumstances, children can be trusted more than the adults can."

"And what's to stop a third party removing it from her possession? A child can hardly defend something so important."

Jack laughs. "You mean what's to stop you from taking it from her by force and destroying the evidence? Don't worry, we've got that covered. Firstly, she doesn't have the actual footage, only an access key. The video itself has been hidden by somebody outside of Torchwood." Jack smiles. Looks like Rhys had a use after all. "The location is encrypted on the pen drive that I'm holding in my hand, which also has a copy of the original video, to prove that we're not bluffing. I'll hand that over after you meet your half of the deal."

"So then we'll have the location. What's to stop us going after the key?"

"Firstly, you'd need the decryption code that only Torchwood is in possession of. And secondly, Greene, I'll be watching."

With the click of a button, Jack ends the call.


	13. Chapter 13

**If this chapter is late, I apologise, and completely blame Ianto. (Sorry, Ianto.) Eight hours of my life just got stolen by Torchwood. See, I got bored being stuck inside all day, so I decided to go out in my strawberry dress. Got more than a few second glances, which was nice. I'm just waiting for a nice Welsh boy to comment on my "I'm a Time Agent" badge and take me out for coffee, now. XD But yes. I got bored in town, then a thought struck me. I have not yet experienced all the Torchwood that there is to experience. So I went to Waterstones, and attempted to find the books. Took me long enough - couldn't ask because if I couldn't find them then I wanted an excuse to talk to the cute young man that works there on Sundays. You'd think they'd store them along with the Doctor Who books. But no. They were in the Science Fiction section. Three of them, anyway. So I bought all of those. **

**I then got home and was halfway through reading one when the doorbell rang. Package. eBay. Torchwood. Ohhhh yes. =D **

**And that is the story of how my entire afternoon was spent in front of the TV, watching the first half of Season Two. It was quite creepy at moments, because I got such deja vu. I knew I'd seen part of Meat before, so that was expected, but there were parts of other episodes when I just got the stomach-churning feeling that I knew what was going to happen. And then there was the Adam episode, which sent me crying for what he did to Ianto. It was especially powerful considering I have memory issues. That same episode gave me an AWESOME idea for next season, though. For an episode, or two. Need to watch the rest of the season to double-check that nothing in canon contradicts my idea, though. **

**Anyway. Enough excuses, on with the chapter! Please review - a lot of you have stopped; it breaks my heart to see my inbox empty! D= I even made this chapter SUPER-LONG for you! **

* * *

The warehouse is empty, wiped of all evidence that they were ever there, by the time that Jack finishes his phone call. He is patiently waiting outside now, along with Anna. Ianto is making much needed coffee. It's been more than a long day – aliens, threats, and a body count that by all rights should include two of their number. Or seven, if counting Jack multiple times. Either way, it's more than the team are used to, and Ianto can't help but envy Jack's decision to let Gwen go home. He knows that he scarcely has a home to go to – though it would be nice to comfort Rhiannon- and that he'd be unlikely to leave Jack even if the Captain insisted. But an offer would be nice, just for once. Lately, he can't help but feel taken for granted.

The gratitude is evident on Jack's face as Ianto hands him the steaming mug, however. And it is worth it, of course it is, just to see that wonderful smile. Not that cheesy, action-hero grin that he's always throwing all over the place, but the understated smile that only occasionally shows itself. Ianto prefers that smile. Not that he'd ever admit it, or do almost anything to make it appear, particularly when--

Jack clears his throat loudly, and Ianto realises that he's staring into space. He glances away. Best not to get so easily distracted. "Sorry." The murmur is practically inaudible, and if Jack does hear it, he doesn't show any sign of doing so.

A bleep echoes into the night, and both Jack and Ianto turn to see Anna pulling out a mobile phone. Somehow, they expected it to be her radio, even despite watching her turn that off earlier. She doesn't seem the sort to carry a mobile; it makes her seem too normal. MI5 and regular things like mobile phones just don't seem to click together - though Ianto is comforted slightly by its sleek black exterior. If MI5 had phones, then they would definitely look like this. Anna answers with the hint of a frown. Despite the invisible straining of ears, neither Jack nor Ianto are able to make out what's being said on the other end of the line. Anna holds it close to her ear, cupped furtively in her hand. Only the slight widening of her eyes gives any indication of the tone of the conversation - Anna holds the phone for a long time without saying a word, leading Jack to assume that the person on the other end of the line has a lot to say. He doubts it's anything too important, though, as he trusts someone of her calibre to be sensible enough to use a secure line if that were the case. Even so, her expression unnerves him more than he lets on. Seeing any break in her stony face gives as much cause for concern as...well, as Owen not being cynical would, were he still alive. Heck, even dead, Jack still half-expects quips from him.

Eventually, Anna closes the phone with a small snap. For a moment, she appears worried, before turning to Jack with the hint of what might constitute a smile. Jack isn't sure which is less reassuring. "I have to go. Urgent call. I trust you boys can handle things here?" Her voice is as cool as ever. That, at least, is some comfort.

Jack nods at her. "Sure. Go ahead, duty calls." He winks at her. "You know Torchwood, we can take care of ourselves."

A definite smile this time, though dry nonetheless. "Good luck, Captain." They nod at each other, a mutual show of respect, before she heads off into the darkness of the alleyway, phone in one hand and gun in the other.

Halfway down the alleyway, she stops mid-step, turns on her heel and faces them once more. "Oh, and Ianto? Keep him in line while I'm gone." She smirks, winks, and heads off once more.

Jack frowns for a moment before turning to Ianto. "See, now I'm curious. What exactly did you two discuss while I was making that phone call?"

The redness of Ianto's cheeks is not entirely masked by the darkness. Even so, he refuses to say a word, ignoring Jack's outbreaks of questions eery few minutes or so. There are many of them before the car finally arrives.

Lois steps from the vehicle, flanked by a pair of armed guards that make it clear they aren't here for her protection. As she walks forwards, Jack catches a glimpse of the handcuffs visible around her wrists. "Let me guess," he says with a sigh, "one key in exchange for another, right?" He throws the pen drive towards the guard on the left, who catches it deftly, passing it to somebody inside the car. It's impossible to say for certain which figure is hidden behind the blacked-out windows, though Jack can make a reasonable guess. "Mr Greene, how nice of you to join us. I told you to return her, but I wasn't expecting a personal guard." He smirks.

Sure enough, Greene steps from the vehicle. He doesn't appear amused. "Just ensuring that Torchwood keeps their half of the bargain. I can hardly be blamed for my suspicion, Captain."

"Nobody's laying the blame on anybody. I thought that was the whole point of this operation." Jack watches him carefully. "I saw the evening news. Still keeping up the facade of injections, then?"

"What would you have us do? Tell them the truth?"

"I'd have you hand Lois over. We've kept our side of the bargain. Your turn."

Greene lays a hand on Lois' shoulder, gently pushes her forward. She takes a step to prevent herself from falling, and is pulled back sharply by the same hand. "You see, Captain, the thing is that Torchwood have proven themselves...not to be trusted." Greene licks his lips, as though deliberating his words. "And, well. We now have the pen drive as well as Lois and your family."

Jack steps forward, body language screaming a warning. "Let them go."

"Why should we? We have all that we need now, Captain. Torchwood no longer has any use other than as a scapegoat."

"The file's encrypted."

"We'll break it eventually."

Jack sighs, lifting both his hands up to brush his forehead with his palms as he takes half a step back. "Except that nothing is encrypted on that. Well, nothing useful. But I think we both knew that from the start, right?"

Greene smiles, his lips thin. "Of course. If Torchwood is good at anything, Captain, it is bluffing. Not that it will do you much good this time. You see, even if you have the footage - which could easily be another of your lies - you will be handing it over."

"Oh?" Jack smirks at him. "And why would we do that?"

"Because we have access to torture facilities, and to your grandson." Greene's constant smiling is as unnerving as his words lend credit to it being. "And because, should you choose to go to the media with that footage, you will never see him alive again."

Whether it takes a moment for his words to sink in, or whether Jack is merely weighing up the situation, is impossible to say. He is quiet for long enough that Ianto looks over in concern.

Then, without a word of warning, he reaches for his own mobile phone. "Gwen? We...might need you back."

The response is delayed by muffled shrieks of laughter in the background. When Gwen finally answers, she sounds out of breath. "Kind of in the middle of something right now, Jack."

"Good, bring him too."

Greene eyes Jack as he ends the call, eerie smile still playing across his face. "You think calling for backup will help you, Captain?"

Jack shrugs one shoulder, grinning. "It never hurt." He exhales slowly and heavily, pulling the Webley from his holster and directing it straight at Greene. "Though this might."

"Killing me won't solve anything, Captain." Nonetheless, Greene's smile falters briefly.

Jack continues to grin. "No, but it'll damn well make me feel better."

His finger squeezes on the trigger, and a shot rings into the night.


	14. Chapter 14

**I just finished Season Two. I also just realised that today is Friday. **

**I'm not sure if you lot all made the same mistake as me, or just thought it would be funny to not correct me. Eh, I'm not bothered. I'm pretty easily confused, tbh. Most of this stems from the fact that I lost a day somewhere along the line. We're fairly sure it was Tuesday. I'm aware I'm not making any sense, but suffice it to say that my head was so jumbled and I couldn't remember anything, and I became more and more convinced that somebody had given me Retcon. Needless to say, this did not in fact help my writing schedule. **

**Anyway. The point is that I thought I had today to write the final chapter, and tomorrow to put up the special chapter, and then it would be Saturday. Except, of course, that there are not in fact two days in the space of 24 hours. I don't know why I thought there were, I just did. So. Long story short, this is the final chapter, as promised. Tomorrow is my day off. And then, after that... we'll see. Special chapter should be up on Sunday, with a working date as to when the next episode will start. That's the plan, anyway. **

**You're right; I wasn't able to finish the chapter on time - it's so LONG! - so while you're reading this first part, I'll be writing the second part. It will be finished tonight, though. It will. **

* * *

Ianto turns to face Jack, all wide eyes and pale cheeks. "I actually thought you'd killed him," he says slowly.

Jack grins at him, not a shadow of regret on his face. "No you didn't. You know me better than that." Jack strides carefully across to the fallen man. The bodyguards turn their guns on him, though he ignores them. In the split second that their attention is diverted, Lois snatches the opportunity to run across to Ianto's side. He has his own handgun, the standard Torchwood-modified Colt, gripped firmly in both hands and aimed between the two guards. He's expecting at least the threat of a shot; they all are.

But both guards look completely out of their depth. There are two of them, and three members of Torchwood. Outnumbered, outgunned (Lois might be handcuffed, but her gun had still been returned along with her), and out of their depth. The one on the left appears vaguely aware that Jack, having shot the prime minister in the shoulder, is probably the one that they ought to be pointing their guns at. On the other hand, both of the guards are clearly aware of who Jack is, and therefore know that shooting him will do them little to no good whatsoever. But standing around does them no good, either.

Ianto understands their confusion well. Soldiers, guards, all that military lot - they tend to be taught by the rulebook. Live by the rulebook. Die by the rulebook. And Jack... Well, Jack tends to scribble rude words all over the rulebook, rip out a few pages, and then chuck it into the fireplace. It's just sort of what he does. What he is.

He's bending over Greene's body now, inspecting the wound. It's quite deep, and the bloodstain has travelled most of his shirt sleeve by this point. He turns to the two guards, who are already staring at him as though transfixed in horror. "Hey, you two. You," he says, nodding towards the guard on the left before gesturing towards Lois, "untie her. And you, apply pressure to this wound."

"Is...Will he be okay?" The guard stutters, and Jack glances over at him. He's younger than he looks.

"He'll be fine." He claps the young man on the back. "He's gone into shock, but the wound isn't fatal. Unfortunately for him, the bullet looks like it's lodged itself in there, and that might need some nasty surgery. The sooner you get him to a hospital, the better."

"B-but you..." The young guard looks straight at Jack, a small madness in his eyes. "You shot him. You're a traitor. All of you. Torchwood traitors." Before any of them even realise what's happening, the guard has his gun out again, just inches from Jack's forehead.

Jack raises both his hands slowly into the air. "Woah. Okay, calm down. Firstly, we both know that even shooting me at point blank range won't do you any good." He glances briefly over to the rest of the team and finds that Lois has been safely released, and that the other guard looks more frightened than anything else. "Secondly, there are two members of my team over there that won't hesitate to shoot you if you do. And unlike me, you won't survive it."

The young man is practically in tears by this point. "You don't understand," he mumbles, hands shaking as they grip the gun. "I have to. You're a traitor. I have to. It's my duty." Jack watches the struggle in the young man's face. He's heard those words too many times before to believe that the boy won't do it. Duty can drive someone to madness all too easily.

"Listen to me." Jack's voice is as commanding and as reassuring as he can make it. "Greene is very much still alive, but his wound needs treating. Okay? You need to get him to a hospital. You need to take care of him. That's your duty."

The young man shakes his head vigorously, never taking his eyes off Jack or his fingers off the gun. "I have to," he whispers. For the second time in such a short period, a gun is fired in the alley.

But it isn't fired at Jack. Nor is it fired by any of the Torchwood team.

In unison, the three others turn to face the guard that uncuffed Lois. "You shot your own teammate," Jack says, eyebrows raised.

The guard simply nods. "Yeah. Billy never did know what was good for him. Only a stun bullet, though. That's all we're loaded with."

Jack regards him for a moment. "Well, that's always useful info to know. What's your name?"

"Jude."

Ianto stifles a snigger.

"Well, hey, Jude." Jack grins. "D'you think you could help us shift Billy and Greene into the back of the car?"

Ianto frowns at Jack. "I thought that we were taking the SUV."

Jack shoots him a withering look. "That was before we had two casualties. If you want to be cleaning blood from the seats for the next month, then-"

"No, that's fine," Ianto says, hands lifted slightly as a sign of surrender. "Just saying."

"Don't. Less talk, more lift."

Ianto quirks his eyebrows briefly at Jack, earning him an amused yet disapproving expression in return.

It takes them several minutes that they scarcely have to shift the unconscious duo onto the back seat, and Lois and Jude both end up having to squeeze in alongside. This, Ianto points out regularly on the journey, is the problem with having six people in a five-seater car. To which Lois replies rather scathingly that he isn't really in a position to complain seeing as he's in the front seat next to Jack rather than being squashed between a complete stranger and a bleeding shoulder. The recurring argument is interrupted at regular intervals by Jack swerving around a corner at high speed, at which point the conversation turns to questions of who decided to let Jack drive, and accusatory glares all around.

It's partly thanks - though the shaken others would never admit it - to Jack's reckless driving that they get to the hospital so quickly. A quick flash of ID from Jack, and occasionally from Jude, and both patients are zipped through to A&E with minimum fuss. Just another part of Torchwood - no matter what you do, questions aren't asked.

Unless, of course, it's Torchwood doing the asking. And Jack has a lot of questions right now. It's all Ianto can do to restrain him from hijacking the car once more and driving straight back to Thames House to sort this out. But Lois claims that she can sort the whole mess out, and thankfully Jack is curious enough to see the new girl in action.

Once more, a phone call is made. This time, there are no threats, no blackmail, no underhanded activity. None that's evident, anyway. Instead, they play the waiting game, sitting on cold plastic chairs until a certain woman arrives. Lois turns to Jack after enough time has elapsed that magazines have been picked up, put down, thrown across the room in frustration (the latter being Jack, and Ianto shoots him a look that makes him pick it up again. "Were you being serious, earlier?"

"When?"

"When you called me a member of your team." She doesn't seem quite able to look him in the eye.

Jack breaks into a grin. "That depends. Do you want me to have been serious?"

"Yes."

"In that case, welcome aboard."

Her eyes widen, as though she can barely take it in. Ianto smiles at her. "Nice to have someone new on the team. One condition, though."

She looks at him, mouth hanging slightly open in worry, or anticipation. Maybe both.

"Yeah. No dying." He grimaces at her. "Been enough death for a while."

"I'll do my best, sir." She taps her forehead with the front two fingers of her right hand, and Jack offers her a full salute in return.

It's at this moment that the woman arrives from the door behind Lois.

"I wasn't expecting a salute, Captain." Her smile is stiff.


	15. Chapter 15

**So. Part two. Please do remember to review, and rec to friends! Heck, rec to ANYONE. **

**And I shall spend my day off tomorrow thinking of you, and shall see you soon. =3 Hope you enjoy! **

* * *

Jack might break into a grin if he recognised the woman from anywhere else. But he has only seen this woman once before, and that was through the contact lenses that Lois had been wearing. Which means that this woman was present in the boardroom when the decision was made to sacrifice millions of children across the world. Which makes her very much an enemy in Jack's eyes.

And yet Lois greets her with a smile, a brief hug.

"Lois Habiba, just whose side are you on?" Jack glares at her.

The smile falls from Lois' face. "Perhaps I should explain, Captain. This is Bridget Spears, the Prime Minister's-"

"Oh, I know who she is." Jack's voice is deadpan.

"Then you should know, Captain," Bridget says, stepping towards him, "that Lois and I have been working against the Prime Minister together. I believe these are yours." She presses the contact lense case into Jack's hand. "You'll find there's enough footage for you to have Greene tried as a traitor to the crown. And to clear Torchwood of all charges."

He frowns, first at the case, then at her. "Why are you helping us?"

She holds his gaze. "Because, Captain, as a machine is more than the sum of its parts, so Earth is worth more than every individual on the planet. And when an individual decides that Torchwood, defenders of the Earth, are worth eliminating, then that individual must be stopped for the sake of Planet Earth."

Ianto nods. "Yup. Definitely a politician."

"Oh, definitely." Jack exhales sharply. "So what now? We have Greene arrested, you take his place?"

Bridget looks at him. "Temporarily."

"I've heard that one before."

"Captain, if it will ease your mind, I'll sign a contract to step down within 12 months."

"This," Jack says, gesturing around angrily, "happened in five days. A lot of damage can happen in 12 months."

"A lot of damage can happen any day, Captain." Her face is unsmiling, though nonetheless piercing for it. "That is, after all, why Torchwood were created."

Jack stares at her for a long, heavy moment. "All right. But your word on this isn't strong enough. I want documents signed, I want official release forms issued, I want all the paperwork dealt with. I want this done officially."

"Red tape," Ianto remarks, with a hint of surprise.

"Yeah." Jack runs a hand through his hair. "And I want you," he continues, turning to Jude, "to watch her. Watch her, and watch over her. If she so much as puts a foot out of line, you contact me immediately."

Bridget glances from Jude to Lois before resting on Jack once more. "Are you attempting to recruit our entire taskforce, Captain Harkness? Torchwood work for the government. Not the other way around."

He fixes her a smile as lacking in warmth as any of hers. "Actually, we're above and beyond the government. Always have been. Torchwood work for Planet Earth, ma'am." He smirks before leaning in closer. "And please. Call me Jack."

With a wink and a flourish of his coat, Jack turns on his heel and exits, closely followed by Ianto and Lois. Bridget Spears is left standing alone in the corridor save for a bodyguard that she very much doubts is for her own protection.

-

Day has broken at last by the time the three of them return to Torchwood One's former base. What greets them is not what any could truthfully describe as a pretty sight. Largely because angry husbands rarely are.

"Where the bloody 'ell have you been?"

Gwen holds him back by the corner of his jacket. "Let me handle this." She strides straight up to Jack and slaps him hard across the cheek. The redness is still visible even after he regains his balance. "Where the bloody hell have you been, you bastard? You call me back and I come running, and you're not even bloody here!"

Jack rubs a hand across his cheek and attempts to lay the other hand on Gwen's shoulder, though she quickly shrugs it off. "Gwen, let me explain."

"Oh, you'd better believe you've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do, Jack." She catches sight of Ianto biting his tongue, and jabs a finger at him. "Don't think you're off the hook so easily, either, Ianto. You're just as much to blame."

"I wasn't laughing at that-" Ianto's explanation is cut short by Gwen grabbing his arm and dragging him and Jack towards the warehouse. Lois follows, glancing in alarm at Rhys, who merely rolls his eyes. Clearly, his anger hasn't dissipated any more than Gwen's has.

Her tirade is interrupted by a shout from behind.

"Captain!"

Gwen temporarily lets go of Jack's arm, and he turns in surprise to see Anna running towards them.

He nods at her. "Agent Johnson."

Her eyebrows crease into a slightly confused frown. "Anna."

"Agent Johnson," Jack repeats. "It was Anna while we were allies. But now that the Earth's safe and sound once more, the rulebook's back. Red tape."

"What if I wanted to switch to a different rulebook?" Something about her seems suddenly breathless.

He regards her for a moment, weighing up the situation. "You're not just saying that to avoid Retcon?"

She smirks. "I'd forgotten all about it."

"Ooh, punny." Jack grins. "Tempting, very tempting. We could use more humour around here."

"Oh, and..." She takes a deep breath. "I've also been told to inform you that the Torchwood Hub has started reconstruction."

Jack looks completely taken aback. "What?"

"As I said before, Captain. I've been working for the government for the best part of eight years now. I have experience, and I have contacts." She pauses to allow herself a proud smile. "Naturally, we're unable to reinstall the technology for you, but the basic infrastructure is being rebuilt and repaired."

Jack's expression is one of disbelief. "That was your urgent call?"

"They misplaced some of the blueprints."

Gwen looks at her curiously for a moment before smirking. "You _really_ want to join us."

"I thought I'd made that fairly clear," Anna replies.

"You do know that being part of Torchwood significantly lowers your life expectancy, right?" Ianto glances at her, then at Jack.

"I'm aware of that, yes."

Jack grins and steps forward to take her hand. "Then welcome aboard, Anna. We could do with a new medical officer, and you were pretty damned impressive with Holly. What happened to the little girl, anyway?"

"She's been taken into custody."

Gwen looks at her in concern. "Will she be all right?"

"She's suffering from trauma, and her arm will take several months to heal, but she'll recover eventually."

"What I think she meant," Rhys interrupts, "is whether a little girl is safe in the hands of a government that, earlier today, was willing to hand millions of children over to a bunch of cracked up aliens."

Anna smiles. "She'll be taken care of. You have my word."

"Speaking of taking care of things, how's Bridget Spears coping with the paperwork?" Jack raises an eyebrow.

"She was filling out a number of forms when I last checked on the situation," Anna replies. "Strange thing, though."

"Oh?" Jack looks across at her.

"During the encounter with the 456, a lot of government files mysteriously disappeared."

"Shame, that." Jack grins.

The rest of the team can't help but grin back. Even Rhys cracks a smile at long last.


	16. SNEAK PREVIEW

**So. The special chapter. It's not a chapter, per se. It's more a sneak preview of next season.**

**There will be six episodes. The order may change, depending on the subtleties of my planning over the course of the next few days. I still don't know when the next season will start. However, it will be up on this same story, so add it to alerts if you want to know as soon as it starts up again (I know nearly a hundred of you have already, but I also know more people read this than that)! **

**Lois and Anna are, of course, now part of the Torchwood team. However, as Gwen will be off on maternity leave for most of this season, she'll be replaced by a familiar face. =D**

**And now to the summaries, complete with teaser extracts:**

* * *

**Reverse**

Things in Cardiff are rarely what they seem. It's something that all Torchwood members grow used to, though Andy is having a difficult time adjusting. It's then that a schoolboy steps forward, claiming to know much more than he ought to. Unfortunately, it would seem that this time it isn't all just a hoax or a prank.

_Ianto frowns at the monitor in front of him. "Jack, there's a boy sitting on the steps outside."_

_"And this is interesting why?" Jack strides over, leaning on the back of the chair and leaning close enough that Ianto can feel him breathing on his neck._

_"He's been there since nine."_

_Jack shrugs. "So he's been there a few hours. He probably got stood up by his girlfriend or something."_

_"No, Jack. Not a few hours. Fifteen. And he's staring directly at the camera."_

_- _

**Closing Time**

A shop halfway through refurbishment draws Torchwood's attention when people are caught on CCTV disappearing right in front of the empty shop window. As the team investigate, the store opens to the public, but the disappearances continue. And the mannequins in the window look curiously familiar...

_"It used to be a Burton's, closed down six months ago."_

_Jack raises an eyebrow. "You used to shop there?"_

_"Occasionally." Ianto looks at him defensively. _

_"I don't think you're in much of a position to judge, Captain." Anna grins devilishly. "Didn't those coats go out of fashion in the 50s?"_

**-**

**Something in the Water**

Things are roaming the sewers of Cardiff, and they aren't Weevils. In fact, they're hardly a threat at all. Except that the Rift's been silent for days, and if Jack's reaction is anything to go by, the creatures might be the sign of something much worse yet to come.

_"Relax," Jack assures him, "they're no more harmful than toddlers."_

_Andy glares at him. "It just bit my bloody ankle!"_

_Ianto smiles. "Sounds like my nephew."_

_-_

**One Good Reason**

Every action demands a reaction, and every price must be paid. Unfortunately for fate, Jack doesn't feel like paying up just yet. But when an unexpected visitor arrives, he finds that old friends can very easily become new enemies.

_"Oh good Lord."_

_Anna looks across at him in concern. "What? Have we got Rift activity?"_

_"Worse. They're opening a Starbucks on the next street along."_

_"And this is a bad thing because...?" _

_"They burn the beans."_

_Finding no hint of insincerity on Ianto's face, Anna turns to Jack for some sort of explanation. He merely shrugs. "He takes coffee seriously," he explains in a low voice._

_-_

**Tripped**

The Hub is meant to be impenetrable. Yet at the trip of a switch, lockdown can be triggered, with disastrous consequences. And judging by the recent burglaries, it would appear that Torchwood have to watch their backs from all sides, as more than one enemy lurks in the shadows.

_"There was a police raid last night." Something in Andy's voice doesn't sound entirely right, but Jack ignores it. _

_"So sorry to drag you out Weevil hunting, then." He smirks. "I'm sure you'd rather not be having fun elsewhere."_

_Andy answers with a scowl. "Well, yesterday, I might've. It was my bloody house they raided."_

**-**

**The Returned**

When the Hub was rebuilt, several things were unearthed from the rubble - alien artefacts, the remainders of a pteradon, fragments of wiring. Several half-frozen bodies were also recovered from the scene. All those that had been catalogued were found. But Jack alone is aware that one is missing.

_"You kept him frozen in the vaults after he tried to kill us?" Ianto's disbelief echoes along the corridor._

_Jack turns to him, snarling. "Hark who's talking. The name Lisa ring any bells?"_

_"Lisa didn't blow up half of Cardiff!"_

_Jack ignores him, and Ianto stops in his tracks, aware of the futility of arguing against the past. Jack just keeps walking, keeps running away. That's all he ever knows how to do._

* * *

**And now for a couple of other extracts I just wanted to shove in, just to get you anticipating it even MORE. **

_"Well hello again, Eye Candy."_

_Ianto doesn't turn around, doesn't want to face the owner of that voice. Of all the times for Jack to be gone from the Hub. "What do you want?" His voice is tight, strained. _

_"What, no hug? No welcome party?"_

_-_

_"I'm above your authority, Doctor, and that _terrifies_ you!"_

**-**

**_Hope to see you soon! And please review with ideas/feedback for the previews! I take your thoughts into consideration!_**


	17. REVERSE Chapter 1

**This chapter is over 1000 words, and is the shortest chapter of the five that I've written so far. It's going up now because...well, all plans fell through. I don't know if or when I'll be able to get chapters up, due to being dragged on holiday (narrowboating, for those interested). So updates will be irregular, and I apologise for that. The original plan was to update daily at 9pm, starting on the 1st. So I guess, in a way, this chapter is early to make up for the others being late. **

**And this chapter lacks Torchwood. Sorry, but this time I'm starting from scratch, and I need build-up. **

**I'd like to give a shout-out to the wonderful Rossmonster, for understanding the need for fangirl coffee trips, and also for lending me a couple of Torchwood books. =D And I'm sorry about the clown. B-but it was Ianto! How can you be creeped out by Ianto? Anywho. On with the chapter, I guess. **

**Please keep reviewing - I miss seeing my inbox happy (it smiles when I have a lot of emails). And I will do my best to update as soon as Wi-fi allows. Fingers crossed we find a pub and I can nick a family member's laptop to quickly update. I've even saved all the chapters up already so that it will only take a minute. **

**If all else fails, the next update will be on the 7th August. And I miss you all already. ;____;**

* * *

The boy was scarcely midway through his teens, though something about his face seemed older. The eyes, perhaps. It was usually the eyes. Aside from this strange uncertainty, he made everything almost too clear. For one, it was obvious that he was bored by this room – the constant shifting in his seat, the sighs, the way he rested his chin in his palm and looked around the room as though searching for something that might draw his attention.

"Christopher, are you listening to me? I need you to listen to me."

The boy's gaze returned to the desk in front of him, and to the man seated on the other side. "Yes, sir. I'm listening." There were no creases in the man's dull grey suit, but many on his face. The wine-red tie fastened tightly around his collar brought out what little colour was in his cheeks. He looked like a well-dressed corpse. Or a badly-dressed one, depending on how you looked at it.

He clasped his hands and leaned forward, giving what Christopher thought might have been meant as an encouraging smile. It wasn't much of one, not by any stretch of the imagination. "No need for formalities, Chris. Can I call you Chris?"

"I'd rather you didn't." The boy shifted in his seat once more. The plastic chair was clearly a temporary feature of the office. It was a faded shade of red that matched the man's tie better than it did the rest of the beige and grey colour scheme.

"Well, Chris. I need you to answer my questions. Can you do that for me?"

Christopher answered with silence, instead focusing his gaze on the floor. The counsellor cleared his throat loudly, crossing and uncrossing his legs as though equally uncomfortable with the awkward silence that was developing. "Your teachers are very worried about you, Chris. Your grades have been slipping lately. Do you find the work too difficult?"

Christopher shook his head.

The counsellor sighed and rested his hand on the folder to the left of the desk. "There's only so much that I can do if you won't talk, Chris. I need you to help me help you."

Christopher blinked at him. Did anybody actually respond to that line?

Several moments of silence lapsed between them, during which the man fidgeted with a pen on his desk. Finally, with another sigh, he clasped his hands and looked Christopher directly in the eye. "Tell me about the aliens, Christopher."

"Aliens don't exist." Christopher looked at him, the picture of innocence and sincerity both at once.

The man smiled at him, pushing the file to one side. "It says here that you are prone to falling asleep in class."

"I'm narcoleptic?" Christopher suggested, though it didn't sound as though even he was convinced.

"You have been overheard muttering in your sleep on more than one occasion. Talking of aliens."

Christopher shrugged. "I have nightmares. That's normal." Even so, something in his eyes said that there was something lurking underneath the surface, something that he wanted to say but was afraid of saying. Something that was definitely not 'normal'.

The counsellor regarded him for a moment. "Tell me about the nightmares, Chris."

Christopher looked at him briefly, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. Before he could say a word, however, the door creaked open, revealing a young man perhaps eighteen years old. His hair was a dark blond where Christopher's was brown, though the similarities in facial structure were undeniable. He barely registered the counsellor. "C'mon, Kit." He jerked his head in the direction of the doorway.

"The session isn't finished yet." The man stood up behind his desk, his fingers splayed out as though clutching at some invisible force. "If you could just wait outside for a few minutes...?"

"James. I'm Kit's brother."

"Half brother." The correction escaped Kit as little more than a murmur, though the counsellor caught it. That would be worth noting in the boy's file later.

James didn't remove his gaze from the younger boy. "C'mon."

Without a word, Kit removed himself from the uncomfortable plastic chair and walked past James with no more than a second glance, his gaze trailing along the carpet. Despite the counsellor's protests, James merely nodded at him before closing the door in his face.

A few seconds of awkward silence confirmed that the counsellor was not going to follow them from the room. It was only then that James turned to Kit, face dangerously neutral. "What do you think you were doing?"

Kit swallowed. "I was just..." He closed his eyes. "My teacher told me to go see the school counsellor."

"Do you do everything teacher says?" James had slowly been advancing towards Kit, making him back subconsciously against the wall. His face was much too close for comfort, like a bully pressing his victim against a locker. The situation was nothing like that, though the parallels escaped neither of them.

"If I hadn't gone, it would have been suspicious."

"As suspicious as a teenage kid who still believes in aliens?" James gave a hollow laugh before leaning yet closer, eyes narrowed. "You don't tell them anything." His voice was a dark snarl, his finger pressing the point into Kit's chest as though trying to hammer in the point. "Anything."

Kit's lower lip trembled. "And what if I do? It's nothing to do with you, you aren't-"

"I'm your brother. I care, Kit. I'll care when they send you off to a mental ward, when they find out the truth, when they cut you up and donate you to science. I'll care." He paused, stepping back before continuing. "If they find out about you, they'll come for mum, and they'll come for me. Don't trust anyone."

"But-"

"No buts." James silenced him with a finger to his lips. "There's nobody you can tell about this. Ever. After all, who'd believe you?" He had meant it as a rhetorical question, so he wasn't listening for the reply.

The word slipped out as barely more than a whisper. "...Torchwood."


	18. REVERSE Chapter 2

**I'm told that the correct word for situations like this is 'sorry'. Shortly followed by flowers and/or chocolates. Except that this is the internet, so I'll have to find other ways of apologising (and believe me, I have other ways). So. This is me, saying sorry. Unfortunately, I was unable to update at ALL for the past week, though a fair number of you still reviewed (I came home to an inbox of over 100 emails, though obviously not all from ), so my sincerest gratitude for that. **

**Basically, this week was...eventful. Half an hour before we were due to pick up our narroboat, we got told it was broken (something about the gearbox), so we had to go to a different marina, pick up a different boat, and go down a different canal. I kid you not when I tell you that this other marina was in the middle of NOWHERE. There was nothing. You couldn't even hear cars. So, getting Wi-Fi onboard was a no-no. Alas. **

**However, I did see**** two flies having a threesome with a dead one on a lock gate, have blisters all over my hands, got a wasp trapped in my trousers and so have stings all over my right leg, and I'M IN NINTENDO MAGAZINE. With Fire Emblem fanart, sure, but I'm there. And that's what counts. Anyway, aside from this, I mostly spent the week being a lazy ass, talking to llamas (nope, not kidding), and watching Torchwood Season Two over and over and over. **

**And I wrote. I wrote a lot. So, for the next week or so before I go on holiday (where, fingers crossed, they WILL have Wi-Fi, although I'll have to put up with French keyboards), you'll be getting two chapters a day (I told you I had other ways of apologising). The usual updates at 9pm, plus one in the morning that should be at 9am but won't be today because you're reading it right NOW, and won't be tomorrow because I have work. But every other morning, sure. **

**Anyway. Enjoy, and keep reviewing. I missed you guys.**

* * *

"So this is the new Hub."

The building stood maybe eighty feet above the Plass – certainly tall enough to tower over any other buildings nearby, and any who walked below it.

The team were stood below it now, gazing up at the water that cascaded down its face. "Looks the ruddy same to me," Rhys commented with a frown.

Gwen nudged him gently with her elbow. "Next thing, you'll be saying I don't look any different to six months ago." It would have been a lie, of course; her baby bump was prominent now, and they had had to wait for her along the way here. Half of the reason that Rhys was even here was to help support her as she walked.

He neatly dodged the question. "Still just as beautiful, though, eh?"

He shot a cheeky grin across at her and earned a quick peck on the cheek for his unexpected compliment. Gwen was smiling now, but there had been moments when the hormones had become too much, and they had argued upon more than one occasion. This morning, in fact, because Gwen was blowed if any son of theirs was going to be named after a bloody potato, and yes, she had agreed before, but that was only because she'd thought he was joking, and-

Anyway. They were both here now, the happy couple expecting a child, and there was no way that Gwen was going to give Jack Harkness any reason to believe that she and Rhys were anything less than happy together.

"The glass looks newer," Ianto said, reaching out to touch it and letting the water trickle across his fingers. "More reflective."

Jack smirked. He would be the one to notice that. Always noticing the tiny details, Ianto. A little spike in rift activity, a brief time slot in which Gwen would be away from the Hub, a shirt button left undone in haste. "Looks great to me."

Anna crossed her arms, eyeing him with mistrust, as ever. "Is that vanity I hear, Captain? You helped its reconstruction. Of course you'd think that."

"I gave you a few plans and helped install some bits and pieces. But hey, if you want to give me all the credit-" Anna jabbed him in the side, and he squirmed slightly. That brought a smile to Lois and Ianto's faces, and a full-on grin from Gwen.

"You didn't tell us you were helping, Jack."

He shrugged. "Gotta find something to do between Weevil hunts. Besides, you should never leave these things in the incapable hands of government types. How's the Olympic stadium construction going again?" He smirked, and narrowly dodged a swipe at his head from Anna.

"I was under the impression I was with Torchwood, which means I'm no longer a 'government type', Mr Harkness." The scorn was evident in her voice.

Jack grinned. "In which case, you ought to be more respectful of your boss. And it's Captain. Captain," he repeated, as though to stress to point.

"Um, Captain?" Lois smiled nervously at him, tucking a flick of hair behind her ear. "Are we going to go inside, or just stand here all day? Only I'm a little curious to see it after all I've heard."

Jack grinned at her. "In a bit. We're just waiting for somebody first. Torchwood's a team, so we don't leave anybody behind." Suddenly he turns to her once more. "Except when I tell you to, because there's usually a reason."

"That," Ianto remarked, "and you're the boss, so we don't tend to argue."

"That too."

In the distance, a figure could be seen walking towards them, silhouetted by the sunlight streaming behind him – and that in itself was an odd thing, sunshine at that time of year – though clearly in no hurry.

"Hey!" Jack called out, cupping a hand to his mouth to make his voice reach even further.

It was then that the figure picked up the pace; he didn't exactly sprint, but it was a decent jog towards the team. "Sorry I'm late, got caught up with at a burglary scene." He wiped his forehead with his wrist.

Gwen smiled across at him. "Good to see you, Andy."

"And you. Blimey, you're getting big now, aren't you?" He nodded in the direction of her bump, eyes wide.

"Eight weeks to go," Gwen replied with a beam.

"Sorry to interrupt the reunion," Jack said, not sounding sorry in the slightest, "but we have a Hub to inspect and new members to whip into shape." He grinned at that last part, and Andy's face fell into a frown in return.

Gwen sidled up to him, a wicked grin on her face as well. "You think he's joking, but Torchwood have interesting ways of training recruits."

"That's not helping first-day jitters, Gwen Cooper." He glared at her as though attempting to reprimand her, though she wouldn't stop grinning.

"Elevator, or front entrance?" Jack looked at Ianto questioningly.

"Got to be the elevator, really. Impress them a little." He nodded towards Lois and Andy. "I'll take the tourist's entrance with Anna and meet you down there. Save you a trip."

"Elevator it is, then."

Jack's coat flapped in the wind as he turned and led Lois and Andy towards a specific paving slab. Gwen and Rhys followed at their own pace.

"What's so impressive about an elevator?" Andy asked.

Jack turned to him with a smirk. "Step here and find out."

With a frown of confusion, Andy walked across to the spot that Jack had gestured at and stood beside the Captain, looking completely nonplussed. "This is the elevator? But where's-"

His questions were interrupted by the pavement slab suddenly descending, and the swift realisation that falling from this small stone square would probably kill him. They must have been at least fifty metres from the ground – and what a ground it was.

Looking up, he could see the silhouettes of the rest of the team gradually becoming smaller, along with the square hole that the elevator had created. "Doesn't anybody fall thr-"

He was stopped mid-sentence by Jack's glare. "Typical Welsh. Do you people deliberately try to find flaws in everything, or is just instinct?" He shook his head. "And no, nobody falls through. Perception field. Nobody goes near it unless they know what they're looking for. It's like having your eyes glaze over."

"Oh." Andy probably didn't understand Jack's technobabble, but he seemed too dumbfounded by the view to question it further.

A creature suddenly swooped past them, the rush of wind nearly knocking Andy from the platform. "Bloody hell, was that a pterodactyl?!"

"A pteradon, or so I'm told. Never really knew the difference, myself." He glanced across at Andy. "Are you done clinging to my arm? Not that I mind, you're a cute enough guy. Just wondering." Andy quickly disentangled himself, looking away awkwardly. It was difficult to distance himself from the Captain when they were stuck in such a small space. Another step away and he would be dangerously close to the edge.

Luckily, the platform came to a rest just moments later. Andy lingered for a moment, wanting to make sure that it was safely on the ground before stepping off. Jack had to drag him off in the end, as he waited so long that the platform started to rise once more.

It was at this moment that Ianto and Anna entered, and caught the two in an awkward embrace as Andy practically fell from the moving platform. Ianto quirked an eyebrow at Jack, remarking lightly, "If you're not careful, I might get jealous."

Jack grinned. "Maybe I like you jealous."

"I said I might, not that I necessarily would. Coffee?"

Jack pulled a face. "That's true, I'd miss the coffee. Sorry, Andy." He patted the young policeman on the back.

"I didn't mean that. I was offering. New machine. Needs to be put through its paces." Ianto smiled.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you need to offer?"

"I was offering the others, as well." Behind them, Gwen, Rhys and Lois have arrived, with the latter rendered completely speechless by the vastness of the Hub interior. "Rhys, I know you like yours black. Lois, Andy – how do you take your coffee?"

"You've never made me coffee." Rhys frowned.

Ianto's smile widened. "Gwen's mentioned it before. Never stops talking about you." Gwen's cheeks reddened at the comment, though she said nothing. "Anyway. Andy? Lois?"

Jack grinned across at Ianto. "What, you mean you can't tell how somebody likes their coffee from their stride across the Hub? You disappoint me."

Ianto couldn't help but smile in return. "I'm working on it, Jack. When I perfect the ability, I'll let you know."


	19. REVERSE Chapter 3

**Aww, I feel so special that so many of you read and reviewed the last chapter so quickly. As you read this, chapters six and seven are being beta'd, so hopefully there'll be a steady stream of good writing for you. I'm enjoying writing this more than Fourteen, actually, though that's probably due to the fact that I have no clue where it's going, so I'm on the edge of my seat (and hopefully, some of you are, too. Or will be). **

**A quick shoutout to Adele for being such a faithful fan, and to smithy (because I wasn't able to reply because it was linkless) - thanks for your review! And to Nienna, because your review made me smile for hours. That's exactly the sort of thing that keeps me writing when I hear it. Fingers crossed they won't screw up S4, though. I'd rather like to watch Torchwood again without crying (and I cry whenever Ianto appears, so S4 is my only hope, really).**

**A few things to clear up.  
1) Narrowboating isn't like canoeing or kayaking - it's on a canal. With boats between 50 and 70ft long. And lots of locks.  
2) Kit is a shortened form of Christopher. It's the same person. And James is the brother.  
3) There will be a new medic. However, I don't want to introduce a tonne of new characters right now, so it'll be a while. Anna will be playing doctor for a bit, acting as a temporary until the station is filled. But there are gaps in her knowledge, and that might cause some problems later on... **

**Thanks to you all for reading, and hopefully reviewing, and I hope to see you bright and early for tomorrow's update (it'll be around 7:30 am)! It's nice to see some new fans, too! **

* * *

It was a cold day in Cardiff. Sunny, but cold, as though the blue sky were only there to trick people into thinking that the British summer had not yet ended. It was getting slightly warmer, admittedly, as the afternoon wore on, yet Kit was still loathe to remove any of his many layers. He sat there on the step, scarf tucked neatly inside his coat as he huddled his arms around himself.

The Bay was quiet enough, with only a handful of people walking through. None of them paid any attention to him. Some of them were couples, holding hands; some families, parents chasing children between the grand architecture; some as lonely as he was, hands in pockets and letting themselves drift beneath the sparse clouds for lack of anywhere else to go.

Kit had nowhere else to go. Nowhere except home, and that wasn't an option. He'd sneaked out of the back door while James was out with a friend, knowing his mother wouldn't notice that he was missing for some hours. Even when she did realise, there would be nothing that she could do. She would have no idea where he was, would simply wait for him to come back home. If James came back too soon, though...that might prove to be a problem.

He shouldn't have mentioned Torchwood. He realised that now. Even so, there was no going back – what was done was done, and if James managed to track him down, then that was that. He would just have to hope that Torchwood found him first. How could they not? He was effectively sitting on their front step, and they could hardly ignore that.

Kit stared up at the cascade of water, blinking in the reflected sunlight of the mirrorglass. He knew the camera was up there somewhere, because he could sense that he was being watched. Now all he had to do was make sure that they noticed him.

-

Unbeknownst to him, this would prove a lot harder than he thought. The seven members were all thoroughly busy defending planet Earth, which curiously seemed to involve pepperoni pizza and Twister. In fact, Andy was quickly becoming convinced that Gwen had been moaning about the workload for nothing.

"Left foot red!" Jack yelled, spinning the disc for everyone else by default, as he was the only person still able to spare the balance of his hand without toppling over.

Gwen carefully removed her hand from the mat, falling over before she had a chance to reach the red circle she had been aiming for. She laughed. "That's me out, then." She squirmed out from underneath Andy and sat on a chair at a nearby desk, breathing heavily. "Blimey, this game's harder work than I remember it being."

"I doubt it was created for use by pregnant women." Lois smiled at her.

"Or pregnant men, or pregnant others. Let's have some workplace equality here," Jack said, grinning. "Right. Andy, right foot yellow."

Andy's foot was already on a yellow spot, so all he had to do was slide it across to the free one next to it.

"Not that this isn't fun, but aren't we supposed to be catching aliens?" Lois asked.

"Not until there are aliens to be caught. The Rift alarm'll sound, don't worry. Hm, my turn." He watched the pointer spin around the disc before finally settling, and then grinned. "Right hand blue."

"Jack," Gwen reprimanded, "that does not count!"

"This is my right hand, and they're blue," Jack countered. "What part doesn't count?"

Andy frowned, straining his neck in an attempt to see what was going on on the other side of the mat. "What is it?"

"She's right, Jack." There was a hint of regret in Ianto's voice. "I'm fairly sure only the circles on the mat count."

"Well, aren't you the spoilsport?" Jack removed his hand and replaced it on the mat with a sigh.

"Save the antics for later, boys." Anna smirked; she had seen where Jack's hand had gone.

"Speaking of the time, Gwen, we should be going." Rhys gave her a look. "Much as I love being squashed underneath your colleagues, you need to rest." His knee clicked as he attempted to stand up. "And so do I...ah..."

Jack also stood up, helping Rhys to his feet. Sensing that the Twister game was finally at its end, the other members of the team gratefully eased their bodies back onto the ground, disentangling themselves from each other.

"Leaving so soon?" Jack pulled a face. "The party was just getting started!"

Gwen gave him a regretful little smile. "Keep in touch, yeah?"

Jack grinned. "Like you could keep me away. Six months down the line and you'll be begging to return to work."

Gwen raised an eyebrow and held out her left palm. "Weevil hunts, alien tech, near death experiences." She held out the other hand. "Sweet little bundle of joy." She motioned with her hands, weighing them up.

Jack took a hold of her wrists and pulled her right one below the other. "Nappy changes," he whispered, then laughed with her. "Just give us a call when you're ready to come back, okay?"

"Only if you promise to call me if you need me."

He grinned. "Not a chance. Far be it from me to interrupt your happy family life."

"I mean it, Jack." Gwen held his gaze just a moment too long. Ianto cleared his throat.

Jack glanced across at him with the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to Gwen. "So did I. Go home, Gwen Cooper." He let go, suddenly aware that their hands were pressed against each other. Her fingers refused to break apart entirely, and just as Jack thought she was about to step back, she threw her arms around his neck and enveloped him in a hug.

"Miss you all already."

He grinned and gently pulled back, pushing her towards Rhys and the door. "Go."

She stopped to hug Ianto on the way, pulling him into a tight embrace before pulling away and grinning at him. "Godfather?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly at him.

He blinked at her. "Wasn't expecting that." He exhaled, laughing nervously. "If you're-"

"We're sure. Nobody we'd rather have." She smiled. Rhys rolled his eyes. He'd wanted Banana, not one of the Torchwood lot – but he hadn't wanted an argument, and she'd promised not to let that Rachel be godmother in return, had promised to let him have a say in it. Like most of their relationship, it had been a compromise.

"Then I'd be delighted." Ianto smiled. Gwen beamed at him return.

"Seriously, go!" Jack looked at her incredulously. "Forget about the impending doom of the universe, and go and play happy families!" He made a shooing gesture at her, and with a laugh, she finally turned and linked arms with Rhys, leading him back through the tourist office.

It was only when they were gone that Jack threw his arms up into the air and placed them behind his head with a sigh. "Honestly. Employees. Can't get 'em, can't get rid of 'em."

"Right." Ianto cleared his throat, trying to salvage the situation into something that might vaguely resemble the stuff of a traditional office working day. "Come over here, you three, I'll teach you how the Rift monitor works."


	20. REVERSE Chapter 4

**This is me updating at work (shh!) because was down earlier (not sure why). **

**Pretty please some reviews for when I check my inbox at lunch? **

* * *

"Thanks for taking care of things earlier." Jack wandered through the doorway but stopped short of actually entering the room.

"No problem," Ianto replied, his voice light. "I thought you might like a moment to yourself for once."

Jack paused. "Yeah."

Ianto avoided his gaze, worried at what he might find. "Listen, you aren't upset about it, are you?"

"About what?"

"Me being chosen as godfather." Ianto turned to face him and found a horribly familiar neutrality to Jack's expression.

Jack must have noticed his reaction, as he quickly forced a smile. "It's fine. You were a better choice."

"I doubt that very much."

"Ianto." Jack commanded his attention. "That kid needs somebody to watch her grow up, to help take care of her. Not some unchanging figure who can't get too close for fear of endangering her."

Ianto was silent for a moment.

"Besides, there was no way that Rhys was ever going to voluntarily let me be a part of their family. Even Gwen choosing you seemed a little close to Torchwood for his comfort."

"That's what I'm worried about. How can a child be brought up by a mother who's absent for half of her life? Will Gwen tell her about Torchwood? Not when she's younger, but when she's old enough to keep a secret. Will she be told, or will she be lied to for the rest of her life?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't know. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"And in twenty years' time, Jack, if she does know, will you be able to let her go? Will you be able to watch that little girl grow up and live her own life without ever having a part of it? Or will you drag her into Torchwood like you did Gwen?"

"Gwen joined Torchwood of her own accord," Jack said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Can you really tell yourself that, Jack?" Ianto looked away. "Owen, and Tosh, too. They joined because you came to them at the right moment, when you wanted them."

"Torchwood is my responsibility, Ianto. What do you want me to do? Promise I'll leave Gwen's child out of this? What if one day, she's the only person that can help? What if she wants to join? Do I say no then?"

"I don't know, Jack!" Ianto's voice rose before he even realised. "I just... I worry about all the innocent people that Torchwood claims, all right? All of the people that have their ordinary lives stolen from them."

"You want an ordinary life?"

"No," Ianto said quickly. "That's not what I meant. You know it wasn't. I signed up for this, knowing what it entailed." Jack raised an eyebrow. "OK, maybe not everything. But I knew what to expect. But the others have no idea. By the time they've realised it isn't all fun and games, it's too late. You said it yourself, Jack, it's a job you can't quit from."

"What do you want me to do, Ianto?" Jack repeated. "Even if I told them the risks of the job, they wouldn't listen. Nobody ever does."

Ianto sighed. "I know. It just gets to me sometimes."

"Gets to me sometimes, too." Jack ran his hand through his hair. "Where are they all now, anyway?"

"Andy's teaching Lois how to use a handgun, and I believe that Anna is down inspecting the vaults."

"So we're all alone up here."

"Yup." Ianto was still facing away from him, preferring to continue his focus on the workstation, drawing up various programs and checking that everything was in working order.

Jack stepped a little closer. "Anna tells me the internal CCTV hasn't been installed yet." The grin in his voice is evident. "And it's getting late, so we should probably send the others home."

Ianto frowned at the monitor in front of him. "Jack, there's a boy sitting on the steps outside."

"And this is interesting why?" Jack strode over, resting on the back of the chair and leaning close enough that Ianto could feel him breathing on his neck.

"According to the CCTV, he's been there since nine."

Jack shrugged. "So he's been there a few hours. He probably got stood up by his girlfriend or something."

"No, Jack. Not a few hours. Fifteen. And he's staring directly at the camera."

Jack let his head fall back as he sighed. "You want to check it out?"

Ianto nodded. "Could be a security breach. The camera's meant to be invisible – you can't see it unless you know where it is."

"I'll get my coat."

"You're already wearing your coat." Ianto snatched his handgun from the desk and hastily stowed it in his belt as he stood up.

Jack turned to him. "In the parallel universe where you didn't notice that kid, I wouldn't be. In fact, I wouldn't be wearing very much at all." He gripped the doorframe as he passed. "This is the one problem with mixing work and pleasure. Work gets in the way."

Ianto smirked. "Work now, pleasure later."

"Sounds like a plan." Jack grinned. "Coffee after that?"

"Since when do I have to offer?"

The two men exited the Hub into the floodlit Bay. The sky was more than dark, but by the artificial light, they could make out the boy clear as day. He was staring at them now, not the statue that housed the Hub.

"Hey, kid!" Jack called out, frowning. "Don't you know it's rude to stare?"

The boy remained silent, and Jack motioned to Ianto to move closer.

"It's a bit late to be out here by yourself, isn't it? How old are you, fourteen?" Ianto knelt down in front of the boy, though his hand stayed close to his hidden gun at all times, and he knew that Jack would be ready with his own if a situation arose.

There was silence for a moment. "Fifteen."

"Fifteen," Jack repeated, drawing closer. "What's your name?"

"Kit." He glanced up at Jack. "Harman," he added, upon sensing that they were after a surname as well.

"Well, Kit, d'you mind telling us why you've been sitting here all day?"

"You've been watching?"

Jack grimaced. "What if we have?"

Kit fiddled with his thumbs, suddenly unable to look Jack in the eye. He turned to Ianto instead. "I need you to help me. Please." His voice was hoarse.

"What's wrong?"

Kit shook his head, shying away. "Can't talk here. It isn't safe."

"Okay." Ianto held out a hand and pulled the boy to his feet.

"Woah, what do you think you're doing?" Jack stared at him. "You can't just take him into the Hub. He might be a threat."

"He's just a kid."

"No."

Both Jack and Ianto turned in surprise to see that it was Kit who had spoken. "No," he repeated. "I'm not just a kid."

Jack regarded him carefully. "So what are you, then?"

"Nothing. I'm nothing. I don't belong anywhere, I don't belong to anyone."

"Are you an alien?"

"I don't know. I'm not human." There was no trace of insincerity on the boy's face.

They stood there for a few moments more before Jack nodded, suddenly decisive. "All right. Bring him into the Hub, have Anna run some tests. Hold out your hands, kid." Kit did as he was told, letting himself be handcuffed without any resistance. Jack wasn't sure if this eased his worries, or increased them. "Put him in one of the vaults."

Ianto nodded in silent acknowledgment as he led the young boy back towards the Hub, following the sound of Jack's footfall in the night.


	21. REVERSE Chapter 5

**Okay, there was no update yesterday, because FF was down. I was unable to log on for at least two hours either side of the 9pm schedule. They appear to be glossing nicely over this and not admitting the error on the homepage, so I don't know what exactly happened. Anyway. Your chapter is here now. This was the 9pm update from last night, so I'll give you the 9am update from this morning later today, and then you'll get today's 9pm update as per usual. Hopefully. I'm keeping to the schedule, it's just that everybody else is getting in the way. XD**

**Because nobody could log in or post, my favourite fic "A Thousand Paper Cranes" and Fourteen were the top two entries in the Torchwood category for several hours, and I got 2000 hits yesterday. xD Sadly, I got no reviews because nobody could log in. So, review now and make me happy, please? **

* * *

"Well, his biology's certainly not like anything I've ever seen before." Anna scrolled across the screen, showing the test results to Jack and Ianto. Andy was down in the vaults, watching over the boy, and Lois had been let leave early. After all, Jack reasoned, there was little point in them all staying into the early hours of the morning.

"Have you tried cross-referencing the results with the Hub data pools?" Ianto asked.

"Tried. No matches."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "None whatsoever?"

"The highest match, other than human, was less than 12%."

Jack leaned his elbows on the workstation, narrowing his eyes at the display in scrutiny. "So we have no idea what we're dealing with here."

Anna grimaced. "Looks like it." She handed a folder to him. "But you can see from the X-rays alone that he looks perfectly normal. It's only when I analysed the blood tests that I noticed anything wrong."

"And?"

"Well, according to the files that Ianto printed out, his medical records state him to be blood type AB."

"And isn't he?"

Anna paused for a moment before inserting a small slide under a microscope. A blurred image slowly came into focus on the computer screen. "This is the blood sample that I took from him. Hang on a second, I'll zoom in. There."

Jack stood back and crossed his arms, frowning at the screen. "I'm not an expert on biology, so explain it to me."

"Neither am I, Captain." Anna glanced across at the screen as though daring it to explain its abnormality. "But these," she said, gesturing at the forms on the screen, "are antigens. Count how many different types you can see."

"Four."

"Actually, three," Anna corrected, pointing towards one type in particular. "As far as I can tell, these are some sort of mutation of these ones." She gestured towards another.

Ianto stared at the screen. "But that's impossible."

Anna exhaled. "And yet, according to the tests, this boy has blood type ABC."

"So what's C?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"No clue." Anna shrugged. "Something alien, anyway. Check his medical files."

"There's nothing here."

"Exactly, Captain. Fifteen years old, and not so much as a case of chicken pox, in his entire medical history. Whatever this rogue antigen is, it's keeping him healthy enough. Scarily healthy."

Jack shot a sidelong glance at Ianto. "Sound like Reset to you?"

"I see no killer insects hatching. I think the X-ray would have caught them." Ianto smiled despite the situation.

"What's Reset?"

"Not-so miracle drug," Jack replied with a grimace.

Anna shook her head as well. "Nope. There's no trace of chemical imbalance. Whatever this is, it's not drug-induced. It could be some sort of virus, but his body isn't showing any signs of rejecting it."

"So, what? He was born with it?" Ianto continued to frown at the screen.

"It looks that way," Anna replied. "Give me a few days, and I'll run further tests. If we can isolate the antigen, we might just be able to create a true miracle cure."

"No." Jack's face was set.

Anna whirled. "Captain, this could be-"

"Dangerous?" Jack offered. "A trap? I've seen the miracle cure, and this is not how it works."

"Then how does it work?" Anna had both eyebrows raised. It was obvious that she had her doubts.

"They're called nanogenes, and they aren't invented for millennia to come, so don't hold your breath. Even then, there are things they can't fix. They work on repairing biological structure – tiny little machines that knit a person's DNA back together. Nothing chemical about it."

Anna smiled at him, though the suspicion still clearly registered in her expression. "And how might you know about the future, Captain?"

Jack shot her a nasty look, and Ianto quickly stepped in. "Rule number one of Torchwood. Don't ask Jack."

"Don't ask Jack what?"

"Don't ask me anything. When in doubt, the answer is no." He glared at her. "Whatever this is, it's contained within him. He doesn't appear to be a threat to those around him."

"Yet."

"Yet," Jack repeated. "But all the same, we should keep him monitored overnight. I'll keep watch. The three of you can go home."

Anna scowled at him. "And what if something happens while we're gone? At least one other person should stay with you."

Jack grinned. "I'm the man who can't die, remember? Besides, a few more hours without sleep and I'll start getting cranky, and then nobody'll want to be here with me."

"Right." Anna's arms were still folded tightly, and it was clear that she was less than happy about the situation. "I'll go tell bobby boy that he can go home. I'll see you tomorrow, Captain. Hopefully."

"Bright and early," Jack called after her.

She left the room, leaving Jack and Ianto alone together yet again. Ianto grimaced awkwardly. "I'll make you a coffee before I leave."

Jack didn't answer. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the screen, and the magnified forms floating around below the microscope. He flicked briefly through the paperwork in the folder that he held in his hand before placing it on the desk with a sigh. It was going to be a long night. What was more, he was tired. He didn't need to sleep, as such, but the events of the day had left him mentally exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that by the time the whiff of fresh coffee finally reached him, and he woke up enough to murmur a word of thanks for it, the Hub had already been emptied of its other occupants.

The rest of the night would be just him, and the alien boy trapped safely in the vaults below. Jack slumped into the nearest chair. It was going to be a _very_ long night.


	22. REVERSE Chapter 6

**I'm bored, and I'm hungry. So I'll give you this update and then run off for lunch. I know that none of you can review because I've been trying to review some other stories and have been unable to. **

**I'd like to direct you to the fabulous oneshots by Solstice Zero here on the Pit, and sam_storyteller on LJ. There's one involving a Torchwood/LOLcats crossover, and it's fantastic. **

**Oh, and this chapter gives the first vague hint of an actual PLOT for Reverse. So thoughts would be appreciated. I don't know if messaging is working or not (I love getting PMs!), or you can drop me a line on my email (bardmary at aol dot com) if reviews still aren't working. **

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The first thing that Jack noticed when he awoke was that the empty mug in front of him had been removed and replaced by another, this one full and still hot to the touch. Fresh. "Ianto. Didn't hear you come in."

He knew that it was Ianto, not only due to the subtle aroma melting from the mug (nobody else was able to brew coffee in quite the same way), but because there were signs all through the Hub that somebody had attempted to clean it up. The empty pizza boxes had been removed, Jack noticed, glancing around, as had all the other remnants of their impromptu office party. The Twister mat was still on the floor, though. Presumably Ianto wasn't sure where to put it, though he had folded it into a neat pile. The folders and scraps of paper on Jack's desk had been organised, too, although the area where his head had been resting remained untouched. Ianto probably hadn't wanted to disturb him.

So it was no surprise to Jack when the younger man popped his head around the doorway, smiling. "Strange how you don't hear things while asleep."

Jack groaned, pressing fingers to his forehead. "I feel like I've just been Retconned."

"Hangover?"

"No," Jack replied, more than a little defensive. "Didn't touch the stuff."

Ianto quirked his eyebrows. "Makes a change from usual, then." But Jack wasn't even up to their usual banter, and it took Ianto only a moment to realise this. He pushed the mug closer. "Come on. Coffee. You need to wake up before the others get here. At least for the first twenty four hours, try and give them the impression that Torchwood is controlled and organised?"

"I control, you organise?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

Ianto shot him a look. "Bit early for that sort of talk, isn't it?" Nevertheless, a slight smile escaped him. Apparently Jack was feeling better already.

Jack took a swig of coffee, placing the mug back on the desk with a thud that made Ianto wince. "It's never too early for anything. Did I ever tell you about the time I downed six hyper-vodkas before dawn?"

Ianto grimaced. "More than once. And to this day, I pity any who were in the bar with you at the time."

Jack rubbed his cheek with his palm as his laughter wore down into his usual lopsided grin. "Man, that was a night. I had a similar headache back then... I've gotta teach you how to make those one day." He finished off the dregs in the mug, stood up, and clapped Ianto on the back. "Right, I want you to pull up all the footage of the vaults from last night, so that I can at least pretend that I was awake and watching."

Ianto nodded. "Already done. Nothing noteworthy occurred, as far as I could tell."  
Jack didn't break stride as he headed from the room. "And I want to know who this kid is. When's his birthday, what family does he have? Any background information you can get your hands on. When Anna comes in, tell her -"

"Tell me what, Captain?" The Hub door rolled back into place behind her as she entered and walked briskly up the stairs to meet the other two. She raised an eyebrow questioningly at Jack.

"I want the results of yesterday's tests compiled and on my desk by nine."

She shot him a look. "It's quarter to."

"So get to work." He clapped his hands together as the two of them hurried off to their respective desks. There were maybe ten minutes of peace within the Hub, the silence interrupted only by the tapping of fingers on keyboards, before the other two members arrived.

Their entrance did not go unannounced; Andy's voice was raised loud enough for him to be heard even before he made it into the room, Lois trailing behind him. "And I am telling you that the government have nothing on police protocols."

She had her arms crossed and was looking at him in nothing short of disbelief. "Excuse me? The government _invented_ red tape."

Jack regarded them from the balcony upon which he was stood. "Actually, I believe that was Charles Dickens." Both of them looked up, startled to see him standing there. Andy tried to conceal the fact that he had jumped slightly. Jack ignored him. "You're late, both of you. Lois, help Ianto. Andy, with me." He continued talking as he moved swiftly down the staircase to meet him, coat billowing behind. "Something a little closer to home, PC Davidson. Ever conducted an interrogation session before?"

Andy nodded mutely before realising that Jack wasn't paying any attention, and was already travelling another of the Hub's many staircases. Andy knew better by now than to question, and merely fell into line behind the Captain, taking the stairs two at a time in an attempt to catch up.

Lois watched them for a moment, amused, before making her way quickly over to where Ianto was stood. She noted his frown with a reassuring smile of her own. "Internal investigation, is it?" She nodded towards the photograph on the screen – a middle aged man, dark eyed, curly brown hair tied back in a short ponytail. His skin was pale, else she might have easily mistaken him as Italian. The information beside him on the screen stated him to be one Dylan Harman. British.

Ianto's frown deepened as he turned to face her. "What makes you say that?"

She gestured towards the screen. "I've seen that photo before, when I was researching Torchwood."

"No." Ianto shook his head slightly, though he looked uncertain. The frown held on his face. "I don't recall ever seeing him before, and I regularly go through the archives. Besides," he said with a small smile, "I doubt that Jack would recruit someone with a hairstyle like that." The smile was wasted on Lois; she was busy gazing at the screen, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"It wasn't this Torchwood," she said finally. She bit her lip, trying to remember. "I'll pull up the files, hang on a second." She slid the keyboard across the desk to where she was standing, hesitated for a second, then grabbed the nearby chair as well. A few moments later, and her fingers were hard at work. Ianto watched her in silence, was reminded of that one time he had called Tosh's hacking 'obscene'. It was nothing on this. Lois' hands were slower, steadier – a lot less graceful than Tosh's elegant touchtyping, but more filled with purpose. There were more windows, more programmes open than he ever remembered Tosh needing. But then, Tosh had been familiar with the system. Lois appeared to be playing this by ear, pausing when uncertain, having to think about what she was doing. After a few minutes of work, a database that Ianto had never seen before appeared onscreen. "There."

"How did you do that?" That was what he wanted to ask. But the question was only halfway from his mouth when his throat dried. Lois had entered a search query for Dylan Harman, with one result. And the information that she pulled onscreen told Ianto in the briefest of instants why he had never come across this man before.

He tapped at the com nestled beside his ear, knowing that it would be the easiest way to reach the others if they were already in the interrogation room. "Jack?" Ianto sounded breathless. "We have something."

As he waited for a reply, Ianto's gaze settled upon the bottom of the computer screen, obsessed by a single line of information that both confused him and, though he would never admit it, scared him a little.

_Based: Torchwood Four. _


	23. REVERSE Chapter 7

**Well now. The Pit appears to be somewhat offline still (so far as I can tell, reviews are the only thing not working), but again, if you have something that you would like to say, please feel free to email me at: bardmary at aol dot com. **

**I know that story alerts are also offline, so unless you're checking (and I hope that some of you are, expecting a 9pm update), you won't know this is here. I'm sorry about that, but it's not my fault. **

**I hope you do enjoy this chapter, as ever, though it had...let's say 'mixed responses' from my betas. One of these responses was "Jack, you're an asshole. A hot and slightly scary one at that." Which pretty much says all that there is to say. **

**Nevertheless, I hope that you enjoy it, and email me a review (seriously, I'm pining for you guys here!), or actually review if the system gets back online. **

**This will be the last update until problems are fixed, though, as I don't want to overload the inboxes of those who have the story on alert. Sorry. The next chapters are busy in the betaing stage still, anyway. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Andy sat opposite the boy, his hands neatly clasped atop the table. He was smiling a little, more out of nervousness than anything else, and Jack's presence in the room did nothing to ease his mind. Even so, Andy thought he would prefer this to having the Captain watch from above. Not that this was an option; the only internal CCTV they had working so far was in the vaults. This only worried Andy further. Aside from the coms, there was no way to call for backup. Admittedly, the suspect (of what, exactly, Jack had failed to mention) was scarcely more than a boy, but Gwen had warned him to never assume anything in this job. If he and Jack were disabled in some way, it would take a while for the others to realise, to help. Andy was finding it difficult to keep his mind from speculating what might happen in that short space of time.

Jack, meanwhile, was oozing off his usual air of confidence (arrogance, some argued). He was stood in the corner of the chamber, his back to the wall. His eyes were fixed on Kit.

The boy was fidgeting below the table and chewing on his lip, shooting anxious glances at Andy and trying not to make eye contact with Jack. He seemed guilty. Andy had to admit that he was displaying all the usual signs of hiding something. But then, the room itself might have had something to do with that. It was silent, shadowed, windowless. The only light source was a bare bulb hanging over the table, casting ominous shadows across the features of those in the room. One glance across at Jack, standing resolutely in the corner like some predator waiting for the right moment, and Andy himself was ready to confess, despite not having actually done anything. Though, thinking back, there had been that one incident in his childhood, involving his neighbour's cat. He'd never liked cats. More of a dog person, really.

Bloody hell, he was getting distracted easily. Not a good impression to give on his second day (at least it wasn't his first), and he didn't want to think about what happened to those who were fired from Torchwood. He doubted that it was particularly impressive to the boy that he now returned his attention to, either. "Your name is Kit Harman, is that right? Is that short for Christopher?"

He needn't have been so nervous. He'd conducted interrogation sessions a hundred times before. It was as routine to him as catching Weevils was to Jack. You started off with small questions, got them bored and dropping their guard before you moved on to the actual interrogation. He knew how it worked.

Kit nodded twice, once in response to each question.

"But you prefer Kit. All right, Kit. I'm a police officer, my name is Andy."

"Is that short for Andrew?" There was no clear mocking tone to the boy's voice, and Andy had actually opened his mouth to reply before he realised.

"We'll have none of that, thank you." The clear scold to his voice made Kit smirk. He stopped as soon as he caught sight of Jack glaring at him. "Better," Andy continued. "Now. How do you know about Torchwood?"

Kit looked up at him. "Internet."

Andy cast him a disapproving look. "No, but really."

"No, but really," Kit retorted. "Internet search. Aliens."

"You did an internet search on aliens and found Torchwood." Andy stared at the boy for a moment, unsure whether or not to believe him, or at least play along. "Right. Using what search engine?"

Just then, a small crackling sound distracted him from the interrogation. Someone was telling Jack something over the com system, though it wasn't loud enough to be clear to either of the room's occupants, listening intently though they were. Jack's expression gave nothing away, either.

The crackling abruptly stopped, and Jack strode over to where Kit sat, slamming his palms down on the table. The sound rang around the room for some time while all else was silent. Then Jack raised his eyebrows expectantly at Kit, smiling without any warmth. "Why don't you tell us about your father?"

Kit squirmed away in his chair, trying to increase the distance between himself and the Captain, to little avail. Jack leaned in closer. "Why don't you tell us how you really know about Torchwood?" He paused to allow Kit a moment to reply, but received no answer. His hand came down on the table once more, this time with yet more force and mere inches from the boy's face. "Tell me what you know!"

It was impossible to tell whether Kit was shaking in anger or in fear. He turned to Andy, glaring at the young officer. "You know," he spat, "if you're meant to be the good cop, this is usually where you step in and stop him."

Jack gripped him by the chin, forcing him to turn away from Andy and face him instead. His face was pressed just inches from Kit's. "You think this is a routine?" He shook his head with a wild grimace. "I hate to break it to you, kid, but I'm not a cop. I'm Torchwood, and we're above the law. You have no phone call, no lawyer, no rights." Inwardly, Jack cursed. The vaults were empty, and he no longer had Janet to use as a wakeup call. Nothing to frighten the boy into talking. "You wanted help from us. But you kept us in the dark. So until you talk, we're keeping you in the dark. You'll be isolated in the vaults without light, food or water." He turned to Andy. "Take him back."

"That's against human rights!" Kit shouted, as he was dragged from the chair and towards the door.

Jack glowered at him. "Human rights are for humans. Let us know when you want to talk." He exited the room without another word.


	24. REVERSE Chapter 8

**Woo! The Pit appears to be back online and fully functional. So, a MASSIVE thanks to the four of you who reviewed. I just want to take a quick moment out to reply to all of you.**

**bbmcowgirl: No, Jack and Ianto don't seem as close as they ought to be. This is for two reasons. The main one starts to get explained in this chapter, and the next one is a minor thing (for now) that won't come up until next season, when everything will start to spark off. Quite simply, I actually liked the dynamic between the Doctor and Jack when he became immortal ("Just looking at you, because you're _wrong_."), and I wanted to echo that now. Jack is, I think, horrified by his own existence, and the slight possibility that Ianto might be immortal as well simultaneously thrills and disgusts him - he doesn't want to inflict that suffering on anybody else, but at the same time, selfishly, he never wants to let Ianto go. He's confused, and he's worried that Ianto will ask questions that he doesn't know the answer to, so he's pushing him away a little bit. It's a weird dynamic, but I just want to explore it for a little while. It'll all get ironed out, mostly in the episode One Good Reason. So, there will be a wait, but there will be fluff (and possibly a teensy bit of smut) along the way. **

**kinkygrl: Where have I been? I've been sitting at home, doodling and watching Torchwood re-runs. They probably didn't hire me to write the series because I'm only 17, and I don't pretend for a second that my ideas are perfect. I would LOVE to script for Torchwood and/or Doctor Who, but because nothing else on TV really interests me (I'm a gamer at heart), I wouldn't have a hope in the industry. I really would love to write one of the novels someday, though my chances of that are also pretty slim. Which is why I have my fingers crossed that the cast for S4 are just as fun to write. I'm glad that you're enjoying reading this so far, though. And thanks for saying I rock and that I have talent. I enjoy compliments as much as the next writer. :)**

**Nienna: I'm very glad to hear it. I try to make them talk in my head as I'm writing - it helps me realise when dialogue isn't working for a certain character. Hopefully, it's been roughly in character so far? **

**moonchild94: I am perfectly okay with you naming a character after Anna. I'm sure she'd be honoured (I know I am!). In my head, I actually think her name is secretly Annabel, but she doesn't tell anyone that she shortens it. I'm not sure why I think this. And Ianto is very glad that you like him after he's died. Of course he noticed that the glass is shinier; he has an eye for these sorts of things. And Jack is very much in need of his coffee (but will probably continue to flirt with Andy anyway, because Andy is completely clueless). **

**Looking forward to getting some nice reviews for this chapter, and hearing from you all once again! There were some last minute changes here - I cut out a small chunk of dialogue, and it got replaced with a bit of inner-monologue for Ianto. Everything's starting to really kick off now, but I'm sure you can tell that from the end of this chapter. Enjoy, and review!**

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Floors above the interrogation room, the sounds of hands slamming on tables, chairs dragging across the cold stone floor and a boy screaming himself hoarse could all still easily be heard. There had been no update from Jack since Ianto had informed him about Torchwood Four – in fact, judging by the lack of response, Ianto guessed that he had actually turned his com _off_, which was a bad decision at the best of times. Even so, the noises that carried through the Hub told them all that they needed to know.

Lois looked over at Ianto, her eyes pleading concern. "Are you sure they're all right down there?"

"They're fine." Ianto didn't even look up from the computer screen.

That was when Kit had shouted about human rights, and they had watched Andy drag him, screaming, back into the vaults. Lois just stood there at Ianto's side, her eyes creasing up as she watched the boy pull himself into the back corner of the cell, tears dribbling down his cheeks, and rocked himself back and forth long after the lights had gone out and the cameras had turned to night-vision. "You call that fine?" she asked softly.

Ianto nodded. "He's relatively unharmed. Most of it's psychological, and we can always wipe his memory after this ordeal is over."

"But he'll still have gone through it. The trauma will still be there." Her voice shook in anguish. "You can't just bury that with a pill!"

It was then that Anna entered the room, clutching a small stack of paperwork to her chest. She laid it on the desk, pausing for a moment to watch the live CCTV feed. She nodded. "Ruthlessly efficient. I approve." She glanced at Ianto. "Captain Jack's own method, I take it?"

Ianto slowly nodded. "He tricks them into thinking that they'll be in the vaults for days, without food or water. They panic, dehydrate, drive themselves insane trying to just keep time."

"How long do they last?"

"Usually? Three or four hours. Longer if they manage to sleep."

Lois looked at the pair of them in fear and disgust. "That's sick. Inhumane."

Ianto merely shrugged. "That's Jack. Results, no questions asked."

"Not that you'd ever ask them." Anna's gaze fixed on him. "Would you?"

"No point. Don't ask Jack, because you'll never get a straight answer out of him, and you'll drive yourself mad in the attempt." There was a murmurish quality to Ianto's words, as if he were talking to himself more than anyone else.

They were too busy, all things considering, for him to dwell too much on what had happened. The others didn't seem so affected by it – they had been shaken for a few weeks, certainly, but they seemed to have recovered. He hadn't. Perhaps that was understandable; he wasn't exactly used to the idea of coming back from the dead (though, thinking about Torchwood's track record with Owen and Jack, perhaps he ought to have been). Anna hadn't been part of Torchwood back then, so there was no point in asking her anything. And Gwen would have said if she knew anything, because, well, it was Gwen. So she must have been just as clueless as he was.

But Jack had been there. And Jack knew.

Ianto had seen it in his eyes, under the streetlamp all those months ago. Confusion, and possibly even a hint of fear. Two emotions that Jack never showed, because he was Jack. Whatever had happened, it had thrown even Jack off – Jack, who had come back to life a thousand times himself! – and that was why Ianto hadn't pushed the questions any further. He knew that the second he asked, Jack would shut him out, and he liked to think that Jack needed him right now. And he knew that he needed Jack.

So he hadn't even brought it up in conversation. It was as though nothing had ever happened. But when they were settled, when the new recruits were up to scratch, Ianto would ask - he might even demand – to know what had happened. And he wasn't going to let Jack avoid the question, not this time.

Because he needed to know what had happened between them that Jack could hardly meet his eye. Certainly, there was flirting (it was Jack, after all), but it felt strangely empty. As though Jack wasn't convinced that this was Ianto anymore. Something had changed, and he needed to know what.

But this was here and now, and thinking about the future was always a dangerous thing (particularly for Torchwood operatives). Right now, they had an alien caged in their basement, or a scared young boy, or possibly both. And he had a lot more experience dealing with aliens than he did with actual-death experiences. So for the moment, he chose to forget about the future, and deal with what he could.

"I'm going down to check on them. Okay?" He didn't know why he asked for confirmation, but Lois nodded and smiled. Maybe she thought she'd convinced him that there were better methods. Anna nodded as well, though she seemed to be more aware of Ianto's actual reasons for heading down to the vaults. He was glad. It was nice being able to rely on someone without questions being asked.

It was halfway down the stone staircase to the vaults that Ianto found Jack and Andy, the latter trailing a few steps behind and as full of questions as any of them had been on their first day. But this was no longer his first day, and Jack's patience was wearing visibly thin.

"Look, Andy. I know you're used to police detainment, but this is Torchwood, not the police. Whatever that boy is, he isn't-"

"But you are breaking human rights." Andy's voice was slow, as though to stress his point.

Jack was having none of it. "Not human."

"Are you?" Andy sounded incredulous. Ignoring Jack's murmured reply of 'debatable', he turned to Ianto. "It's basic decency. No phone call, no lawyer – that I can understand." He didn't think it would be easy to find an alien lawyer, anyway. "But no food? No water?"

"Think of it as anti-terrorism." Jack gestured back towards the darkness of the cells. "Aliens pose a threat to planet Earth. As long as he continues to deliberately withhold information from us, he is a threat, and the law allows us to use whatever measures we deem necessary to protect the human race."

"But aren't there...I dunno, friendly aliens?"

Jack shot Andy a look. "Sorry, kid, but this isn't ET." He glared at Ianto, who was making phone-home gestures with his hands as though on cue. He stopped as soon as he caught sight of Jack's expression.

"That's not to say that movies are always inaccurate, though," said Ianto, with the murmur of a smile.

Jack grinned. "That's true. There's been more than one species we've come across that's sported the _Alien_ hobby of bursting through stomachs."

Andy looked like he was about to throw up; his face suddenly turned an odd shade of green.

"Actually," Ianto said, "I was thinking more of the timeless pearls of wisdom of _Master and Commander_. Always choose the lesser of two Weevils."

As though it had been waiting for the perfect opportunity, the Rift alarm chose that moment to sound.


	25. REVERSE Chapter 9

**Okay, so evidently there are still problems on the site. Your reviews aren't showing up, but I have received them, don't worry. **

**Squatternut: Have I told you before that I love your s/n? I do. I also loved your review - I'm glad you like the continuation, and the character dynamics (they're usually what interest me the most). I'm trying my best to make Lois, Andy and Anna into their own characters, rather than their predecessors, but I'm not sure I'm succeeding. All the same, I shall continue to try. **

**mara: His Doctor might indeed know some of the answers, though you'll have to wait for a bit to find out. (The Doc won't arrive for a few episodes yet.) And yes, there may be some rather underhanded tactics involved in getting Jack to talk. Ianto has his methods. XD**

**moonchild: I adore the way you seem to read my mind. You seem to have grasped where I'm going with these characters perfectly, and I can only hope that some shred of that was conveyed in my writing (and continues to be, in fact). I wish they were my characters. They still belong to the BBC. But it's nice to have them on loan. And in answer to your question about Ianto's immortality...the first one. xD But, like you, I'm very much hoping that it's not permanent. Because that would mean two of our favourite TW members would be suffering, and that would be sad. =( And yes, I agree that CoE has grown on me. I'm a lot more accepting of Ianto's death, though I still hate that 5th episode. I s'pose that's what started all this, though, isn't it? XD **

**Please continue to review! I love hearing my inbox ping. =D**

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Jack prided himself on having his team ready for almost every eventuality within moments. It was a relic of his time in the trenches that had become second-nature to him, and readily imparted to the Torchwood operatives that he now commanded. Unfortunately, this sort of readiness often took months to instil, and the new recruits were sadly lacking. Aside from Jack and Ianto, the only one who immediately leapt into action was Anna, who was armed and ready within seconds.

It was to her that Lois looked for some sort of explanation. Her unspoken question was answered for, however, as Jack burst into the room, coat billowing wildly behind him in some invisible breeze. He leapt onto the flagstone with no more than a second glance and a quick motion of his hand to tell the others to follow his lead.

Ianto turned away from the rest of the team, heading down a short corridor towards the parking bay that housed the SUV. Halfway there, he realised that the clatter of footsteps echoing around him were not just his own, and he was in fact being followed by a breathless Andy. Ianto turned on his heel with a bit of a grimace. "You follow Jack," he corrected, pointing back towards the others. "I'll meet you up there."

"Oh," was all the response that Andy could manage before he turned and sprinted back the way he had come. He just had time to leap atop the flagstone as it began to rise.

Jack grinned. "Glad to see you again, Andy. Right, all of you. This is your basic Weevil hunt. They're not trained killers, and they aren't the brightest bulbs in the box, but they can deal some hefty damage if you drop your guard. So don't. Keep your coms open and your weapons to hand at all times."

"Don't most organisations have drills for this sort of thing, Captain?" Anna smirked. It was more an observation than a question.

"We used to. Then we realised that nobody ever took drills seriously. Consider it field training, if you like."

By this time, the flagstone had risen to its usual position in the Plass, just metres from the SUV. The three newer members slid onto the back seat, correctly assuming that Jack would be in the front. They scarcely had time to shut the doors before the SUV was pulling away at a considerable speed. After sampling the terrors of Jack's driving during the incident with the 456, Anna was quickly becoming convinced that reckless driving was a Torchwood job requirement.

Jack turned in his seat. "Have we got fixed co-ordinates yet?" There was a worrying amount of silence from the back seat. "Somebody please tell me that they remembered to bring the locator."

Anna tossed the device across Andy to Lois. "I grabbed it from your desk on the way out."

Lois smiled in gratitude. As she read out a steady stream of coordinates, Jack clutched a hand to his forehead. Ianto looked over at him in concern. "What's wrong? Is it your headache again?"

Jack shook his head. That had cleared as soon as they'd left the base; he had probably just needed some fresh air. "No, but Anna nearly gave me a heart attack." Ianto shot him a quizzical glance. "I'm not used to having competent recruits."

Ianto smirked. "I wasn't aware I was incompetent."

"Hey, you weren't a recruit so much as a stalker."

"I was persistent."

"Call it what you will." Jack grinned as the SUV ground to a halt. The doors opened in quick succession as its various occupants clambered out.

"Careful," warned Lois, keeping her back close to the body of the vehicle. "I've got two readings here."

Jack didn't turn to glance at her. He kept his gaze forward, scanning the darkness for movement. Nothing. It wasn't as if there was a shortage of places to hide, however. They were to the side of a disused car park on the left and an ill-tended estate on the right. The area they were in was just a curve of gutterway, populated by graffiti and abandoned supermarket trolleys. Plenty of corners and cinderblocks to hide behind and around.

A glimpse of movement within the car park caught Jack's eye. "Lois, stay by the SUV. Anna, Ianto, scout the area. Andy, with me. I think we've found the first one." He motioned with his hand and Andy stepped forward, gun held close to his chest. Jack held his Webley off to one side. The fingers of his other hand were splayed out, as though feeling the air.

There was a strange breeze in front of them. Andy found his gaze distracted by empty crisp packets blown along the ground; he was unable to concentrate on whatever might be lurking in the shadows. And he knew that was a very dangerous thing indeed. A dark shape darted behind a parked car, and Jack strode towards it, revolver out in front now and ready to shoot.

Ianto's voice came through the com system. "Jack, we've just found a puddle of human blood. There might be victims nearby."

Jack nodded as he acknowledged the update and skirted around the car. It was a red Peugeot, grey with mud, nothing special. As Jack drew closer, he could smell the stench rising behind it. Definitely a Weevil (nothing stank quite like a Weevil), but also something equally familiar – the stench of blood. "Are you hurt?" Jack murmured, inching closer. He could see the top of the Weevil's head now. "Or have you hurt someone else?"

It was crouched against the bumper of the car, making the curious whining sound that they had never been able to decipher. It scratched at the boot of the car for several seconds before Andy managed to subdue it with the spray. "One down," Jack muttered as he placed cuffs on the Weevil's wrist.

Andy, sensing that Jack was quite capable of taking care of the Weevil himself, instead turned his attention to the boot. Old police tricks, a safety pin, and several moments later, the boot clicked open. "Two down, actually."

Jack swore.


	26. REVERSE Chapter 10

**Yes, it's a pretty short chapter. Sorry about that. I'm sleepy. I was up until 2am, and then had to wake up six hours later to type this up. The next two chapters are nice and long, though, promise. **

**Today I'm off to London with some friends, playing a game of Tag. Yes, we're really that bored. **

**As you can probably tell, Captain Jack's driving is an endless source of amusement to me. I would NOT want to be in any vehicle that he was driving. The Torchwood team have no choice. XD **

**Please R&R!**

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Jack's voice shot through the com. "Ianto, we have one subdued and one Weevil fatality, cause unknown. At least, I think it's a Weevil. Bit hard to tell." The boot of the car was thick with blood, and the creature – whatever it was – had had almost its entire face ripped to shreds. Its eyeballs had been removed and both its hands and feet looked like they might have been dipped in acid – the severe blistering made them almost unrecognisable. "It looks like somebody was trying to hide the identity of the victim. Either way, it's been dead too long to be our other signal, so keep your eyes open."

"Jack?" Lois' voice was unsteady. "The other signal disappeared. Just now. I can't retrieve it."

"OK, regroup. Ianto, bring the SUV into the car park, we're by a red Peugeot. Let's take these two back to the Hub."

"Already on it."

Andy looked from the corpse to Jack in alarm. "Hang on, you can't just let the other one escape – there's a housing estate just across there!"

Jack laughed mirthlessly. "I've had dealings with that estate before. It's the Weevil you should be worried for."

The SUV trundled around the corner, coming to an abrupt stop. Anna leapt out just ahead of Ianto, plugging the boot open and rushing across to help with the body. "Blimey, she's seen better days." Anna gave the corpse little more than a fleeting glance as she passed it, bending down to help Jack lift the unconscious Weevil.

Ianto glanced across at her. "What makes you think it's a she?"

"Purse in her right trouser pocket."

"Right." Ianto didn't seem reassured in the slightest by this new information – quite the opposite, in fact. "But it's wearing the jumpsuit. Nobody wears jumpsuits."

Jack grinned as he and Anna heaved the Weevil into the back of the SUV, ignoring Lois' comments about the smell from inside the vehicle. "Yeah, jumpsuits don't come back into fashion until the dawn of the 23rd century."

"So what do we think? Decoy?"

"...Maybe." Jack paused, frowning, and strode back over to re-inspect the body. "But if it's a woman that we were meant to mistake as a Weevil, why the purse? Like it's been put there just to throw us off."

"Maybe it was," Ianto said. "Maybe it's a Weevil that we were meant to mistake as a woman mistaken as a Weevil. Like a sort of double bluff?"

Jack shook his head. "Why bother?" He stared at the corpse for a while longer, then turned and headed back to the SUV. "Andy, Ianto, move the corpse into the back. Make sure the Weevil can't get to it – we don't want evidence contaminated."

"Well, hang on a second," Andy protested, gesturing towards it. "I know you lot are used to just taking what you like from crime scenes, but you should at least tell them there's been a murder."

Jack heaved half a sigh. "Lois?"

"I'm patching through to the local station now." She smiled, but didn't look entirely reassured.

"Good. Any other problems, PC Davidson?" Jack's expression hinted at a smirk, though Andy paid no attention.

"Yes, actually. We'll both have our prints on it from picking it up."

"If you can get it in without touching it, that'd be great." Jack flashed him a toothy smile.

Andy stood there for a moment, pondering Jack's request, while Ianto grimaced at him. "He's joking with you, Andy. It doesn't matter if our DNA gets mixed in, we have records that we can use to eliminate ourselves from the list of potential suspects. Not," he said slowly, eyes trailing over the mutilated corpse, "that I think a human did this."

Andy looked at him in alarm. "Then what the bloody hell was it?" Ianto shrugged, and Andy's eyes turned towards the Weevil that was stirring blearily in the back. "Hey, it wasn't one of them, was it?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, Weevils usually attack using teeth and claws. They wouldn't be able to burn the hands and feet like that." He closed the boot, having already heaved the corpse into it with limited help from Andy. "Jack, Weevil's starting to come around. Better get back to the Hub fast if you want the corpse intact."

Grinning, Jack entered the SUV on the other side. "Guess I'm driving, then." He adjusted the seat before checking in the mirrors that the whole team were accounted for. Ianto slipped in beside him. "Buckle up, kids. We could be in for a nasty ride." Jack's foot hit the accelerator before any of them knew what had hit them. The SUV screeched up the road once more, leaking a sparse trail of blood behind it as it went. Nobody in the streets even blinked as they passed by. Those in the vehicle noticed nothing either; they were too busy clinging on for dear life.


	27. REVERSE Chapter 11

**Today was fun. I didn't know half the people there, so I got to meet a few crazy new people. I did, however, get home later than expected (stupid roadworks), so I finished typing this up with only 5 minutes to spare. And I've decided to edit the next chapter or so, so we might need to go back to just the 9pm updates. I'm exhausted, and I need time to think. Although, I could do a midday update instead of a 9am update. That would give me more time, and I'd be more awake and alert, too. XD **

**Thanks once again for all your wonderful reviews (OMG WE'RE NEARLY AT 200)! I love you all!**

**Veronica: You may be close to the mark. =P I'll say no more. **

**Lucy: Aww, I want to hear your ideas! And yeah, sorry, there's no real chance that my old Doctor Who fanfics will be continued. I'm glad you liked them, though they're a little outdated now. Such short chapters, too. o__o You've been such a wonderful fan, though, that I do have a little something up my sleeve. Watch this space.**

**Adele: Aww, but Andy's a sweetheart! Lois is a little more inept than Tosh, and she also feels awkward about replacing a member of their team (Anna's not one to be worried about such things, and Andy is only temporary). I hope you grow to love them, anyway. **

**Please enjoy, and review! **

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The door rolled open as the five members of Torchwood re-entered the Hub, two other bodies draped between them. Ianto had seemed mildly irritated at them dripping blood through the tourist hut – understandable given his penchant for neatness and order, not to mention what might happen should anybody come across it before it was cleaned – but given that the alternative was to drag the bodies across the Plass, there had been no argument about it. Ianto had insisted upon supervising the others as they carried the corpse through to the autopsy bay, however, and despite Andy's willingness to help, Jack had chosen to take the Weevil down by himself to lock it up.

The Weevil was conscious again by this point, and Jack was forced to spray it more than once on the way down to the vaults. It had become less effective recently, he had noticed; perhaps the Weevils were building up resistance to it. They might have to change the chemicals used before long. Jack wondered briefly if it might be worth adding some of Owen's DNA into the mixture, given that he had been some strange sort of ruler to them. But he doubted that Ianto would allow it. He'd probably accuse Jack of being disrespectful to the dead, and he'd probably be right.

With a little bit of a struggle, Jack managed to contain the Weevil in the middle cell. It bared its teeth in protest, though more at the air than at him in particular. Possibly it was concussed. Jack could vaguely recall hearing something slam into the banister with a clang on the way down.

Once he was satisfied that the Weevil was successfully contained in its cell, Jack turned his thoughts to other matters. The mutilated corpse needed an autopsy, which in turn needed a qualified doctor. He could call in Martha again (she'd come running back just for another glimpse of his jawline), but he was loathe to get UNIT involved. Not when there was even the slightest chance that this might be connected to Torchwood Four.

And then there was the boy.

"What's happening?" Kit's voice rang out from the darkened cell at the end. "What's making that growling sound?"

"It's called a Weevil," Jack said slowly. "Want me to turn on the light so you can see it?"

The Weevil growled again – a rasping sound, like something was trying to claw its way out of its throat. Kit whimpered. "Is it safe? Is it locked away?"

As though mocking the boy, the Weevil made a pathetic whining noise reminiscent of Kit's whimper. Jack smirked. "For now. I can turn on the light, if you want to see it." His glare cut through the darkness. "Except that you already know what a Weevil looks like, don't you, Kit? You've seen one before. So you can imagine this one pressed up against the panel that separates the two cells. You can hear it scratching at the walls because it can smell fresh meat."

"Stop it," begged Kit. "Just keep that thing away from me." He sounded as though he was verging on tears.

"Why should I?"

"I'll talk. I'll tell you everything that I know if you just take me away from it."

Jack flicked on the light, and Kit instinctively shielded his eyes by thrusting his arms in front of his face. As he gradually grew accustomed to the blinding light, he let his finger spread out and squinted through the gaps between them. Jack was visible, if only as a vague dark shape to begin with. "That's not how it works." He stepped closer to the door of the cell. "You tell me, and then I _consider _moving you to a safer location."

Kit slowly clawed his way to the front of the cell, too weak to stand up and walk, too afraid to sidle anywhere close to the partition that kept him safe – for now. But he pressed himself close to the one that separated him from Jack, his fingers clinging to the holes in the glass panel. "We were living flesh to them," he whispered, choking on his own sobs. "They tricked us, drugged us...changed us."

Jack bent down to meet him. "Who? I need names."

"Torchwood." The reply was hoarse, shaken.

"Four?"

Kit merely nodded. Looking closer, Jack could see that the boy's eyes were growing unfocused. Time to take him out of the cell. Jack already had the answer – confirmation, really – that he needed. And Jack knew from experience that once they had cracked, they told everything. Judging by the boy's condition, he had most definitely cracked.

Jack slowly rose to his feet and opened the door. He pulled the boy into a standing position and helped him from the cell, supporting him against his shoulder. He couldn't help but notice that, even delirious and possibly semi-unconscious from dehydration, Kit winced and looked into Jack's shoulder as they passed the Weevil's cage. Perhaps his previous encounters with the creatures had been rather more traumatising than Jack had assumed.

"I'm going to trust that you'll talk without the aid of the interrogation room from now on," Jack said as he prompted Kit up the narrow staircase to the main expanse of the Hub. Either Kit nodded or his head merely lolled – in his current state, it was difficult to tell. Jack had to half-drag him towards the medical bay. Water and possibly a painkiller would be necessary. And maybe something for the boy, too.

Kit nearly fell as Jack instinctively reached toward his own head, forgetting for a moment that the boy needed his support. His headache had returned with a vengeance, and it wasn't pretty. His mind wandered briefly as he wondered whether Ianto was too busy to make another cup of coffee for him. Not that Ianto would refuse, regardless, but there was always the possibility that one of the recruits would offer to make it instead, and that would end in tears all round.

The rest of the team looked up as Jack entered the main expanse of the Hub. They were huddled around one of the workstations, shooting each other delicate glances. Jack knew those looks, had been given them a hundred times before. There was something important that he ought to know, but none of them wanted to be the person that told him. "What?"

The commanding tone of his voice made it clear that he would not stand around waiting for an answer. Anna stepped forward, peeling off a pair of rubber gloves. "We've left the body largely untouched, but we did take a few samples." She paused. "It's human. At least, it was. DNA match to one Susan Inglewood. Not yet reported missing, though judging by the state of the body, it's at least two weeks old."

Jack didn't miss a trick. "What's significant about her?"

"Firstly, this isn't her."

Jack frowned. "But you just-"

"Not entirely her. I should have specified. It's only a partial DNA match. Some of the stuff we found wasn't human."

He raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask?"

Ianto glanced up at him. "Weevil. Matching chemical traces in the bloodstream."

"And?" Judging by Andy and Lois' nervous expressions, there was still more to be told.

"And," Ianto said, gesturing towards the screen but looking at neither it nor Jack, "she was married to a member of Torchwood Four."


	28. REVERSE Chapter 12

**Wow. We broke 200 reviews. Hugs all around!**

**Special love to Nienna, Lucy (I organised my profile just for you!), Veronica, Adele and brokenandlonelyangyl for being such loyal reviewers. Sadly, this will be the last chapter for a while, as I'm off on holiday again. So I really do hope you enjoy it, and I'm sorry it wasn't longer. With a little luck, I might be able to get Wi-Fi to update, but don't hold your breath. If all else fails, I'll keep writing, and I'll have lots of updates for you all when I get back. I might even have finished this episode by now. **

**Speaking of which, I'm really looking forward to the next episodes, too. I also have a couple of episodes for the next season planned out in my head, and if I can write them as well as I can imagine them, then they will be FANTASTIC. I know who the next medic will be; it's something I've been dwelling on recently, and an idea that I've had for a while, but the two just clicked together in my head last night. **

**Please read and review, and also stop by the fic Return Trip by The Scarf Warriors, if you have time. He's a pretty cool writer, and it crosses over into Torchwood (despite being labelled as Doctor Who). And I've no doubt that the plot will be anything less than utterly fantastic and inventive. **

**Enjoy, and I shall see you all when I get back! Lots of reviews in my inbox, please? =3**

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Jack let his eyes close and open again of their own accord. He needed the brief moment of darkness to gather his thoughts, to avoid all the questions that he knew he had to answer. He ran his hands down his face with a sigh. "Anna, take care of Kit. He needs minor medical attention." Anna nodded and promptly took the boy by the arm, leading him onward towards the medical bay.

"Andy, be ready to record anything that he says. He'll talk. Lois, hack into the archives and pull out a complete list of Torchwood Four employees, including those deceased within the past five years. Ianto, conduct a search on the list, plus their families and significant others."

If Jack was expecting the rest of the team to leap into action, he was disappointed. The room was silent except for a small clang as Ianto took a small step forward and knocked into the desk beside him. "Jack, you can't just brush over this. It's too close to home."

Jack stared at him. "What do you want me to do? I don't know any more about this than you do."

"But it's Torchwood. You're Torchwood. You must know something." Lois looked away as soon as she had spoken, turning back to the nearby screen and pretending to occupy herself.

Jack exhaled slowly. He leant forward, palms gripping the metal pole that acted as a sort of banister. "Before yesterday, this had nothing to do with Torchwood Three. Our Torchwood. We separated from the other branches long ago, had nothing to do with them. Torchwood Four was..." He let out a frustrated groan. "They went missing. That's all I know."

"Do you know what they did?" It was a genuine question from Ianto, rather than the accusation that Jack had expected.

Andy answered the question before he had a chance. "Well, I should think it had something to do with bloody aliens, wouldn't it?" The sarcasm in his voice was evident. "It's Torchwood."

Ianto shook his head, frowning. His eyes never left Jack's. "Each branch of Torchwood dealt with something different. For instance, Torchwood One dealt with the Void, and we deal with the Rift."

Andy smirked, eyebrows raised. "You can just capitalise anything and make it sound ominous, you lot."

"So what did Torchwood Four deal with?" Ianto asked. He took a step closer to the Captain.

Jack shook his head. "I don't know."

"But you weren't surprised when they went missing," Lois observed. She had removed herself from the workstation by this point, and was looking at Jack with suspicion.

"They went missing before my time."

Ianto frowned at him, mouth hanging open slightly. "But that's not...I mean..." He trailed off, not wanting to give the others any more reason to question Jack and his loyalty. They had enough weirdness to take in without adding the immortality and agelessness of their leader to the list.

All the same, Jack understood the question. He held Ianto's gaze. "Believe me, they've been missing a long time."

Ianto shook his head, shrugged, ran a hand across his mouth and generally seemed at a loss for words. "So what do we do, Jack?" There was a desperation to his voice that Jack tried hard to ignore. "The only thing connecting Kit and these deaths is the one thing that we know nothing about." He realised how much he was gesturing and stuck his hands in his pockets instead, leaning back against the desk.

"Deaths? Deaths plural?"

Lois nodded towards the computer screen that she had abandoned. "We're tracing the whereabouts of family members of Torchwood Four – we can't find the actual members, obviously, them having gone AWOL – and two of them have recently died in suspicious circumstances." She paused. "Another three are reported or suspected missing persons."

"If you give me a list, I can go down to the station, see if I can dig up any more information," Andy offered, in a brief attempt to look helpful. "Police case files, and I know a couple of people who owe me favours." Judging by the expression on his face, the irony that he had once been one of their police contacts had not escaped him in the slightest. Perhaps not quite as ignorant as Jack had marked him down for, then.

"Do it." Jack's grip tightened around the metal stairguard. Andy nodded, attempting to conceal the smile plastered on his face as he exited the room.

"Is there anything I can do?" Lois took a small step back toward the workstation.

"Kit Harman. What family does he have?" There was a dangerous glint in Jack's eye.

Ianto twisted his lip, a mild expression on his face. "Mother, Kate, mid forties. Half brother on his mother's side, James, nineteen. His dad's deceased, so both boys live with their mother." As usual, Ianto reeled off information as though he had purposefully memorised it. Jack often wondered if he had

Jack nodded. "Okay." He removed his hands from the stairguard and pulled down on his coat, trying to rid it of creases. "Time for a house call."

"Right." Ianto didn't look entirely convinced.

"What?"

"Well, we can't really take the SUV. It stinks of dead Weevil."

Jack looked at him for a moment, opened his mouth to suggest something, then realised that he had nothing to suggest. Nothing that Ianto would agree to, anyway.

"Jack, we can't drive the SUV before it's cleaned. We'd all be gagging for fresh air before we even arrived, and it'd only get worse in time for the return journey."

"Do you have a better idea?" Jack shrugged.

Lois tentatively raised her hand. "We could take my car. If you like."

"Good answer." Jack grinned.

"That means no blood spatters on the seats, and no taking people hostage, mind you." Lois smiled sweetly as she stepped forward with the keys in her hand.

Jack grimaced. This might be more difficult than he had anticipated.


	29. REVERSE Chapter 13

**Hi everyone! Sorry I haven't been able to update until now (dial-up connection only over here, sadly, and we tend to need the phone line), but this chapter is pretty long and I'm sure you'll enjoy it. If you thought I was finished throwing in plot twists, you're sorely mistaken! I've actually finished writing Reverse in longhand (I've yet to type it up), and it's 18 chapters long (though the final chapter might be a little shorter than the others). It's a lot shorter than I thought it would be, because it's only just longer than Fourteen. Except then I thought about it and realised that they're both meant to be roughly the same length, as they're an episode each. So the rest of the episodes will likely be between 15 and 20 chapters long.**

**I've also written the first chapter and a half of the next episode, Closing Time, and I'm not quite sure what's going to happen with that one, because there are now two main plots rather than one. One is the usual plot-plot, with aliens and whatnot, and the other is more of a character-plot, which makes me smile, and will be further developed as the series progresses. One thing that you will notice is that I tend to leave one or two loose threads – chances are, I haven't forgotten, and they'll be picked up in a later episode (never think that you've seen the last of Holly Frobisher, for instance).**

**The character-plot that I mentioned is very much to do with the new medic, because I just couldn't hold out on him until next season. ZedPM was right when she guessed that it wouldn't be an OC. Like Anna and Lois, it's going to be one of those characters that I just pick up and attempt to base on a few seconds of screentime. Except that, in this case, it's not a character from the TV show, but from the books. And I accept that most of you won't have read about this character (he's underdeveloped in the book anyway), so I will be making an effort to introduce him as best I can. Suffice to say it will be...memorable. XD**

**Hope you enjoy the chapter, and please review! Also, a quick shoutout to the Muse Bunny community - I haven't had much of a chance to check it out yet (stupid dial-up), but anybody who talent-scouts on FFN is brilliant in my book. =D**

* * *

James gripped the bridge of his nose firmly with his fingers. It was something he had been taught to do in case of a nosebleed, and it later evolved into an obscure habit – something that he did to aid his concentration.

He had never gripped it so tightly as he did now; he might even _cause_ a nosebleed if he wasn't careful. It was dark, and he was – well, not entirely sure of his own mind. Not drunk, but certainly past tipsy. He had been out longer than expected, and in the darkness and the haze of his current mental state, all of the houses along the terrace looked very much the same.

He found it eventually, though. Fumbling with his key, he managed to unlock the back door and stumble into the kitchen, where he splashed his face with cold water until he became confidently aware of his surroundings. With any luck, he would avoid too much of a hangover the following morning.

It was then, however, that the digital clock above the cooker came to his attention, and he realised that it was already the following morning. With a forlorn sigh, he headed up the stairs towards his room, noticing as he passed that his younger brother's door was ajar, and the light still on. Kit shouldn't be up at such an hour; perhaps he had been disturbed by another nightmare. James wouldn't have been surprised. It was a remarkable night when he went without one. James pushed the door further open, and stepped inside.

"Kit, you okay?"

The room was empty – untouched, as though frozen in time, though James barely had the time to register this, as it was at this moment that all hell broke loose downstairs.

"You could have just knocked," said Ianto, glancing at the mess that Jack had made of the front door.

Jack shrugged, not looking sorry in the least. He'd expected it to just crash open, maybe snap off the hinges. He hadn't expected it to be such a flimsy piece of wood that it would splinter beneath his boot, but then, none of the houses on the tiny terrace seemed particularly up to date. Period structures, probably built in the property boom of the 20s and never renovated by the council. Typical. And also not his fault. "Reprimand me later, we have a job to do."

Ianto scowled, but nevertheless followed the Captain into the hallway without another word. He guessed that all chance of a polite house call had been ruined, but Jack never had been one for the rulebook. There hadn't been any shouts from upstairs, but that didn't mean that nobody was home (at this time of night, where else would they be?), and Ianto went through each doorway half-expecting somebody to leap out with a baseball bat. Horror movies and previous cases listed in the archives told him that keeping baseball bats under the bed was common (which surprised him, given that this was Wales – surely baseball bats were more of an American thing), not that he kept one there himself. There was little point, considering he kept his Torchwood-issued gun to hand most of the time, and also spent relatively few hours actually in his apartment. He had been doing recently, actually, while the Hub was being rebuilt, but other than that, he was at work more often than he was at home (partly because of Torchwood, but mostly because of Jack).

He entered the kitchen, scanning the darkness for any sort of movement. Nothing. The back door still had a key in it, though, suggesting that there was definitely somebody home, and the fridge was humming rather loudly. The knob on the cupboard nearest the door was broken off, revealing a loose screw underneath, but other than that, it was in a decent state. There was no visible dishwasher, but nor were there any visible dishes. Strange.

A snap of fingers from behind made Ianto jump. He turned to see Jack grinning at his apparent fear, and gesturing towards the staircase. The pair of them made their way up slowly, sticking close to the wall as they climbed the steps. Jack had his Webley cocked, just in case. Ianto had his own gun out as well, though he was too over-cautious of his twitchy fingers near the trigger to have the safety unlocked just yet.

Halfway up the staircase, Jack stopped abruptly and turned to Ianto, hissing in his ear. "Seriously, what kind of people do you know that answer the door at two in the morning, anyway?"

"Sane people who don't work for Torchwood, and thus aren't busy breaking into other people's houses at the time," Ianto retorted, his voice equally low.

A figure regarded them from the top of the stairs. "Who are you?" His arms were tightly folded, and it was clear he was attempting to seem intimidating, though the nervous twitch of his eyes gave away his fear, and the effect was somewhat lost on the two members of Torchwood. Poor kid probably thought he was being robbed, Ianto mused. Admirable bravery in confronting them. Just not a great idea when both of the intruders were armed.

Jack, however, had realised what Ianto had not – that the boy's face was near identical to Kit's. There was perhaps an inch or two difference in height, but other than that, and the colour of their hair, they might have been twins. Or clones. It was a sign of the bizarre encounters that Torchwood had that Jack considered the latter option the likelier of the two. "James Harman, I presume?" He raised an eyebrow and lowered his gun, instead choosing to swagger forward with a hand outstretched.

Mistake. As soon as he was close enough, James struck out, delivering a powerful kick to Jack's shin and running like lightning across the upper floor. The blow caused Jack to lose balance, crashing into Ianto below him – luckily, Ianto caught hold of the banister before they had fallen too far. Jack was up again in seconds; Ianto took a little longer.

There was no sign of the boy when they reached the upper landing. Ianto sidled carefully along it, eyes darting in every direction as though expecting another attack. Sweat glistened on the grip of his gun, and on his forehead. He carefully flicked the safety catch off.

Jack, on the other hand, was as reckless as ever. He wasted no time in kicking down a few other doors in an attempt to locate the young man – the attack had been largely unprovoked, but it had been defensive and was probably just an effort to buy time. And if that was the case, then in his panic, he probably would have taken the nearest exit. "Gotcha," Jack muttered. "Ianto!"

Ianto came running over, throwing glances across his shoulder every now and again – still on red alert. Then he saw what Jack had found – a window, thrust open into the darkness. A small window. "We're not going to fit through that."

"No," Jack said. "We're not."

Somebody cleared their throat loudly over the com system. "You boys having trouble?" she asked sweetly. "You know, I assumed the purpose of these was so that we could keep in touch, so an update every so often wouldn't go amiss."

"We lost the half-brother through a window," Jack confessed, sounding bitter.

"I sort of guessed that," Lois replied. "Seeing as he's currently sprawled unconscious on the pavement here by the car."

Jack's face broke into a grin. "Lois Habiba, I could kiss you right now." In fact, he kissed the air next to the microphone by his ear. "You deserve a raise for skilful subjugation."

This made Ianto smile, as he knew that Jack had no control over their paychecks – something to do with Whitehall, though the archives were decidedly vague about the matter – but it was nothing compared to the grin that he wore when Lois' next response came through.

"Well, thank you, Captain. But you know, he actually just ran headfirst into the car. It's pretty dark out here, I don't think he saw it."

"Then you deserve a raise for skilful parking. Enough to repair the damage, anyway," Jack answered smoothly. "And we'll be careful on our way down, unless you want a couple more dents in the bodywork."

They heard her laugh, followed by a clatter off to their right. The master bedroom – the only door that remained standing. With silent gestures, Jack ordered Ianto to cover him. He leaned closer to the closed door, ears straining to hear what was happening on the other side. The sounds were tiny – inhuman, almost. Like pins being dropped on the floor in the rhythm of footsteps.

Jack nodded at Ianto, and together they stormed into the room, guns held high.

The person that awaited them, Ianto thought, was unlikely to be the mother – because, as far as he knew, it was a man. He stood in a pinstripe suit not dissimilar to Ianto's own, though the shirt was not as neatly pressed, and he wore a cravat rather than a tie.

"My, my, Jack. You and your team rather do seem to enjoy pointing guns at me." Bilis Manger smiled.


	30. REVERSE Chapter 14

**Boy was this chapter LONG. Fun to write, though. Sadly, I'm still on painfully slow dial-up, so there might not be any updates again for a while (about a week or so), which is why I tried to make this a little longer than usual. I actually cut this down quite a lot from the original longhand version, too (that was about four pages long, this is closer to three). Mainly because, after the first bit, it becomes less plot and more character-driven, and I wasn't sure how well that would go down (you'll see what I mean), because it reads a bit like an introspective oneshot. **

**So please tell me your thoughts on that (honestly, if you hate it, say so) and I shall write accordingly in the future. But for now, I thought you wouldn't mind a bit of padding. **

**And now I'm off to read your reviews (so if you'd like to send me any more, that would be nice)! Enjoy!**

* * *

Jack scowled. "Can't say I blame them. I'm guessing you have something to do with this?"

Bilis merely smiled at him, thin-lipped. "You seem to have this curious notion that I am some sort of villain," he answered, sounding slightly hurt. It was a familiar facade. "I assure you, Captain, I am nothing more than a victim of circumstance."

"Like hell you are," Ianto spat.

"What he said." Jack sounded just as angry. "I've been thinking for quite some time about your connection to Torchwood, and I have a lot of questions that need answering."

"Ah." The smile fell from Bilis' face, though it was not replaced by a frown. "I felt we might have certain things to discuss, though I'm afraid that particular piece of information is not something we can... suffice it to say that my connection to Torchwood is entirely through your good self."

Jack's glare didn't falter. "Like hell it is. You're in the Hub database, literally encoded into the system. I didn't do that." Jack didn't even know _how_ to do that; he didn't think that even Tosh could have done it. The Hub had a powerful computer system, but it was a mongrel of alien technology and human ingenuity that had been built upon so much over the years that there was no point in a manual of any sort – you made do with whichever bits of it you could get to work, and maybe someday somebody else would figure out how the rest functioned. Jack doubted that even someone as intelligent as the Doctor was able to control the entire Hub (and the Doctor better not have anything to do with this), so the idea that somebody could implant Bilis into the system (and had done, in fact) alarmed him. Nobody deserved that kind of knowledge, that kind of power.

Bilis looked almost amused. "Dear Jack, you will, you will. Not yet, I think, but soon – yes, very soon." It was as though he were talking to air, for his gaze was fixed on neither Ianto nor Jack. "But," he continued, returning to meet Jack's gaze, "we are both men out of our time. Travellers, in every sense of the word. We have seen the incomprehensible. The impossible. Men like us, Jack, have no true place in the universe, for we understand too much."

He paused for dramatic effect, allowing Jack the chance to interrupt. "I have a place here, with people that understand me better than you ever could." His gun was still level with Bilis' chest.

The old man gave him a patronising smile. "Come now, Jack. You don't really believe that. You actually believe that I have more of the answers than you do – which may be true, I do not know. I do know, however, that I am willing to tell you some of them, as history demands."

Jack sneered, though he lowered his Webley until it was aimed at Bilis' feet. "There you go again, Bilis. I hear noises and nonsense, not answers. What are you doing here? What's your connection to Torchwood Four?"

"You shall have your answers, Captain. You must understand, however, that you and I are unique. This present is our past. We know things beyond-" His gaze flicked towards Ianto. "- the understanding of others."

Ianto kept his own gaze steady. He refused to show any sign of weakness before Bilis. The man popped out of nowhere with trouble in his wake, and treated the members of Torchwood with pity. He was an enigma for whom Ianto had nothing but contempt.

And yet Jack appeared to be contemplating Bilis' offer. "What exactly is it that you're suggesting?"

"Merely that, should you seek answers, I am willing to discuss certain things with you. Providing, of course, it is only us. Such information is not for the ears of children."

Children – so that's what Torchwood were to him. Perhaps the entire human race, except Jack – and the parallel between Jack and Bilis scared him sometimes. Both men were a mystery, but while Jack kept things secret to protect them (so he said), Bilis did so because he could, or because he wanted to hold them back. Because he wanted to be a mystery, because it was more unnerving that way. "If you think I'm going to leave him alone with you-" Ianto started.

"Ah!" Bilis held up a hand. "This is not a matter that concerns you. It is a decision for Jack to make."

Ianto glanced across at the Captain, but his face betrayed no emotion. "The Hub," he said finally. "If you want to talk to me, then it has to be at the Hub, and my team are allowed to watch on the overhead CCTV. If you attempt to harm me in any way-"

"As though I could, dear Captain," Bilis interjected.

"Or any of my team," Jack said, his voice sharp. "Or if the CCTV goes offline, or anything suspicious – then they will be ready to hurt you."

Bilis was wearing a sad smile on his face by this point. "You really are rather demanding, Captain. But very well. And if I might have a small request of my own?"

"What?"

"No weapons. I tire of seeing your guns aimed at me. It is rather unnecessary, and it makes me feel frightfully unwelcome."

Sensing that Ianto was about to make some scathing remark, Jack cut him off with a pointed look.

When he looked back, Bilis was gone from the room.

Ianto and Jack were silent as they returned to Lois' car. Jack didn't want to talk because he was too busy trying to sort out the mess in his own head - who was Bilis? A member of Torchwood? A member of Torchwood _Four_? An ally? An enemy? A harmless old man? The last option was the only one that he was able to instantly rule out.

Ianto, on the other hand, was silent in fury that Jack was even contemplating doing something so recklessly stupid. As far as he was concerned, Bilis had always been their enemy in the past, and that wasn't due to change any time soon – so the idea that Jack was going to meet him alone and weaponless seemed foolhardy, dangerous, and it was Jack all over.

He also hated that both Jack and Bilis were treating him like a child. Not just because of the current situation, either, but because ever since the incident in London six months ago, Jack had been distant with him, and Ianto hated it.

He hated that he felt dragged around like a yo-yo, sometimes so incredibly intimate, and at other times completely left out of the loop (like now, for instance). He hated that he didn't know why, and that he had nobody to talk to about it while Gwen was away (because Anna was scarcely familiar enough) . And he hated that he was too much of a coward to bring it up with Jack, because he was so damn terrified that Jack might flee the moment he asked any probing questions – because that was just how Jack was. That was how his relationship with Jack seemed to be – serious, until Ianto took it seriously, and then Jack would act in such an offhand manner that it seemed like it might be nothing at all – because God forbid that Ianto might actually know where he stood for once.

The only thing he knew was that they weren't a couple – at least, not to Jack, because Jack hated the word. Maybe it hinted at too much commitment for him; maybe Jack still wanted to feel like a free man. But Ianto certainly didn't feel like one, and Jack didn't act like one. Not by his usual standards, anyway – sure, he flirted and kissed and touched, but he didn't seem to be properly chasing anybody anymore, not even Gwen. As though, somewhere along the line, Ianto and Jack had become serious without either of them noticing (other people had noticed; wasn't that why they kept being called a couple?).

And maybe that was the problem. Maybe they had finally crossed the line from part-time shags into...well, something else. Ianto didn't mind, but maybe it was too close for Jack's comfort. Maybe that was why Jack had been pushing him away recently.

It had been so one-sided when it had started – him, so lost and confused and alone after Lisa, so desperate to feel loved and wanted and needed; and Jack, sensing an opportunity. Even when Ianto had realised it as such, it hadn't mattered. It was still a give and take relationship, so what did it matter if the two sides didn't feel exactly the same way? Owen had been right; they were just part-time shags.

Except it had become more than that. When Jack went away and came back and realised that Ianto hadn't had anyone else, that he either couldn't get anyone else or hadn't tried to; when he had realised that actually, Ianto needed him a lot more than he had thought; when the initial desperation had been replaced by an actual passion.

And then when Tosh and Owen had died, and Ianto had been the one Jack dropped his barriers in front of; when the desperation had been from the other side this time; when the passion hadn't faded but had become more...comfortable. When it had become about more than just sex.

And the changes had been natural. They hadn't talked about them (Ianto had quickly learned that in Jack's view, the only thing you weren't to talk about in a relationship was the relationship itself. If you wanted to talk about it with anyone else, that was fair game, but between the persons involved, it was taboo). Except that their relationship couldn't be covered by either 21st or 51st century standards, because of Jack. Jack, being immortal, never ageing – tearing up the rulebook once again, and leaving Ianto so incredibly confused.

But they had adjusted. One a little more easily than the other, perhaps, but they had accepted it and moved on. They had worked around it. And just as Jack had finally allowed himself to relax just the tiniest bit, just as he'd begun to realise that Ianto wasn't planning on leaving him (_ever_, if he could help it) – Ianto had died.

And that had screwed everything up, really.

Lois drove the car back to the Hub, more focused on their unconscious passenger (hadn't she specified no hostages?) than on the awkward silence that hung in the air. And it was because of the silence that neither Jack nor Ianto was ever aware that the other man was thinking along almost identical lines to himself. Even if they had been speaking, neither of them would ever have admitted it.


	31. REVERSE Chapter 15

**In my current hazy mental state, I have decided that I can't be bothered to separate this into two chapters, so you're getting one chapter that's over 3000 words long. I blame this entirely on mountain air mixed with caffeine - it's not a great combination. **

**My thanks to the five of you that reviewed. Sorry, Adele, but I'm keeping my mouth tightly shut as to which book I'm pinching the medic from, because that would give the game away. But, as I'm never one to give somebody a straight answer, you may instead have a cryptic clue: Tray 18. **

**hpets, I shall continue to update as and when I can. Which isn't often over here, I'm afraid. But updates will be back to normal come September (screw schoolwork, fanfic is more important), I promise. **

**Veronica, you keep tempting me from the Fourteen series with wonderful ideas for ficlets and drabbles. I shall now add to my list of things I need to write someday ficlets entitled "Not A Couple" and "The Two Second Break-up". XD And yes, Bilis always has an ulterior motive. But you'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out what it is, because Bilis is strangely absent for this chapter. **

**And thanks to Janto-addict and Kimly for making me feel better about the drabbliness of last chapter. **

**It's kinda weird to be updating Reverse, because now that I've finished writing the story, it feels so finished for me. But Closing Time is really fun to write (even if I haven't written much yet, it's really fun to think about), and I can promise you not only a new medic, but also twice as much Janto. Quite literally. **

**Enjoy! Oh, and in response to Adele's question absolutely AGES ago, this chapter is the first one that shows that the Hub isn't _exactly_ the same as before. Boys and their toys. -rolls eyes-**

* * *

The Hub was wonderfully silent when they returned. They had been forced to make a slight detour, as the SUV was still parked in the basement, and Lois hadn't known about the underground multi-storey's entrance to the Hub (the door on the fifth floor marked 'Staff Entrance Only'), so she'd been driving around trying to find a space near the Plass. But they'd got there eventually, with minimum fussing, and Jack only being told not to yell the once. And of course they'd had slight difficulty in getting James from the car – because while he wasn't heavier than a Weevil, the Weevils were usually sedated rather than unconscious, which meant that they, unlike James, were able to walk by themselves. Instead, Jack and Ianto had to carry him between them. Lois could see how much they were struggling (maybe he was heavier than he looked), though neither of them complained. Stubborn male pride, probably.

The Hub was eerily silent when they entered. It felt somehow removed, as though it had just been disconnected from the world around it. Not a comforting thought when dealing with Bilis; it wouldn't be the first time that he had managed to remove the Torchwood team from time itself, though that had been the members themselves – if he had managed to dislocate the actual Hub, well, even Jack would have been amazed.

"Anna?" he called out. His voice echoed a little between the glass walls. It emphasised just how empty the Hub was – you couldn't usually hear the echoes above the noise of conversation and the whirring of various alien tech (though that had all but ceased now that Tosh was gone).

Beside him, Ianto tapped the com nestled by his ear. "Anna, what's happening?"

Still no answer. Still only silence.

Lois darted across to the nearest workstation and pulled up the CCTV feed almost instinctually. Jack was over her shoulder in seconds. "Everything OK in the vaults?"

"Just checking now." One of the things about working for Torchwood (or rather, for Jack) was that you were expected to respond. Even though the screen was still loading (why was it taking so long? Oh God, don't say it had crashed, she wouldn't know how to fix it…), she had replied just for the sake of acknowledging his request. Jack seemed to have this constant need to know that his team members were listening to him – which was understandable, given that he was the leader, though she was sure that there was something beneath that. She'd have to ask Ianto. Later, of course. When he wasn't busy restraining a young man to one of the workstation chairs.

Whereas in her old job, she'd been a receptionist, and nobody had really cared. If somebody had asked for something and she responded to them, they wanted to know why she was talking rather than _doing_. She hadn't been important enough to hold a conversation with. So even despite the sheer danger and threat of this job, she was definitely moving up in the world. Without sleeping with the boss (as Bridget seemed to think was the only way). Not that she wanted to. Besides, he was taken. Judging by what she had seen of Gwen, he might even be doubly taken.

Finally, the screen settled. The boy was asleep in the far corner of the right cell, and the Weevil was growling in the middle one, but there was no sign of Anna. Or anything else. No unusual activity whatsoever.

Jack frowned. "Can you scan back through the CCTV footage and see when Anna was last in the Vaults?"

Lois nodded and did so, rewinding through the past couple of hours. Eventually, the screen showed Anna beside the darkness of the left cell, standing there and watching the other two occupants. That continued for several minutes. And then there was a flicker of red light before she looked up and half-sprinted from the room.

"Play that bit again, but slowly," Jack instructed. He turned to face Ianto. "Was that the Rift alarm?"

Ianto traced his finger in the air above the screen, tracking Anna's steps. He rested it to point at the brief burst of red light, then traced it back across some invisible path, as though working it out in his head. "No. It was the lockdown signal." He pointed across to a similar light just above the workstation. "There's only one light flash, though, which is odd. But the siren would have sounded as well."

Jack pursed his lips and pushed himself up from where he had been leaning on the workstation. He gestured around. "So why isn't the Hub in lockdown?"

"Maybe it came back online?" Lois suggested.

Jack shook his head. "Unless the threat's neutralised within 60 seconds, the Hub locks down for 12 hours. There's no way to get it back online." He shot her a wry smile. "Trust me, we've sat outside waiting before."

"So maybe she neutralised it." Ianto turned to Jack. "Maybe that's why she's not here."

"Except that she'd have to be here. 60 seconds isn't even long enough for her to get out if she was in the Vaults at the time."

"Unless the threat was inside the Hub."

The three of them looked at each other, and then around themselves. The Hub was untidy, certainly, but it didn't look as though somebody had broken in. The Weevil hadn't escaped; neither had Kit.

Jack placed his hands back on the workstation. "The only conclusion that I can come to is that something broke into the Hub, took Anna, and then somehow stopped the lockdown."

"Or got her to stop it," said Lois.

"Yeah." Ianto ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced up at Jack. "D'you think it was Bilis?"

"I'd be surprised if it had nothing to do with him."

Ianto nodded. At least Jack still seemed to have a hold of his senses. In a situation like this, they needed to be able to trust their leader completely, and Ianto couldn't have done if Jack hadn't been open to the possibility that Bilis was involved. He was still irritated that Jack was willing to trust the strange old man, but for now he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. They needed to concentrate on the situation.

When he glanced up, he saw that Lois had pulled out her mobile phone. He could hear the dialling tone from where he stood. Jack had his arms tightly folded and had his gaze fixed on the phone as though demanding Anna to pick up.

And then Ianto realised he could hear something else – a tinny bleeping, regular rather than tuneful. Jack must have heard it too, as he shot one glance at Ianto before the two of them ran towards the source of the noise, to the left of the Hub centre. Lois took off after them, still clutching the phone to her ear.

They found the phone on the floor halfway down a narrow corridor. Lois bent down to pick it up and held it out in her palm for Jack to take. He ran his finger down the casing. "It's been dented in the middle there," he said, weighing it up in his hand. "And the back part of the casing's not holding, so a bit must have snapped off. You want my expert opinion? It was dropped from about head or shoulder height – not from a pocket. She was holding it." He tapped the metallic casing. "This stuff's strong. It wouldn't dent easily. So it must have hit the ground at quite a force. Most likely, she was running pretty fast when she dropped it, because of the Rift alarm. Which is probably why she didn't stop to pick it up again."

Lois motioned with her hand, and Jack handed the phone back to her. She fiddled around with buttons. "Captain, what's your phone number?"

Ianto reeled it off before Jack even had a chance. Jack frowned at him slightly before turning and raising an eyebrow at Lois. "Is now really the time, Ms Habiba?" He grinned.

She ignored him and nodded at the phone. "She was halfway entering your number when she dropped the phone."

"How'd you know that?" Ianto asked. He was looking at the corridor as though he didn't quite believe it existed. Jack had already started walking on, and Lois hurried to keep up with his long strides.

"Keypad memory. Your phone keeps a log in the system access memory of which buttons have been recently pressed, and in which order." She smiled as she walked into step with him. "You can look at deleted texts in the same way, but it's a lot harder to work out, because each key could be one of several letters."

He didn't seem to be really listening to her anymore. "Jack, this is the corridor to the SUV."

"Yep." Jack kept walking without turning around.

"Anna doesn't have access to the SUV."

"Nope."

"So whatever breached the Hub security is probably in there."

"Probably."

"And you just want to walk in there and say hello."

"I'm working on a plan."

"I'll bet."

Lois listened to this exchange and tried not to smile. Even in the direst of circumstances, the two of them would probably still keep up a steady stream of banter.

Jack stopped just short of the door – waiting, as it turned out, for Ianto. She noted with some curiosity that it was his thumbprint that opened the door, rather than the Captain's. She had previously assumed that Jack had access to the whole Hub, but apparently not. Maybe it was a necessary security measurement. If an alien ever managed to possess Jack, or if the Captain was held at gunpoint, then they'd have control of all of Torchwood. So perhaps it was necessary for certain areas of the Hub to be barred to him, so that nobody could ever get total control. And the SUV would probably be quite useful as a back-up Hub – she'd seen the sort of technology installed in there.

The first door – a heavy iron cog similar to the one that led down from the tourist office – opened into a short throughway, too small to even be called a corridor. They stepped into it and the cog rolled back into place behind them. A plain metal door stood between them and the SUV, with no sign of a handle of any sort. Lois assumed that it pushed outwards, but there were no screws or evident wiring to suggest that there was any sort of handle on the other side, either. Maybe that was thumbprint-activated, too.

"Guns ready?"

Lois and Ianto nodded at Jack, and the Captain opened the door with a swift kick. She saw Ianto roll his eyes slightly as they darted forward with their guns held close.

Crouched beside the SUV, dripping blood that was not its own, was a Weevil.

* * *

"Ianto," Jack called, making no attempt to keep quiet. The Weevil had already spotted them anyway. "You got any spray on you?"

"No, haven't you?"

Jack shook his head. "Half a can."

Ianto frowned at him. "That's more than enough to take out one Weevil."

"Yeah, well… It's been getting less effective recently, and I need enough to spray it all the way to the vaults, because I don't have a set of cuffs on me."

"How unlike you, Captain." Lois smiled innocently across at him.

Jack glared at her. "The time for inappropriate jokes is later, Lois."

"How _very_ unlike you," added Ianto. He skirted around the SUV, keeping his distance from the Weevil. It was then that he saw Anna collapsed against the far wall, jacket stained with blood. He knelt down beside her and called out, separated from the others by the vehicle. "Jack, I've found Anna. She's bleeding heavily. Unconscious, but breathing."

Jack nodded. "Okay. Treat what you can, see if you can bring her round. We'll take care of the Weevil." He slowly raised his Webley until it was level with the creature's head.

"Captain, no!" Lois tore her eyes from the line of fire to look at Jack in horror. "You can't, that's not fair!"

"We don't have a choice," Jack snarled. "We don't have any way to sedate it or restrain it, and it's a danger to the team."

Lois bit her lip, trying not to cry. She knew she was the weak one, but she didn't want to be strong if it meant this. "Can't you shoot its shoulder or something? Disable it?"

"Their skin's too thick. Bullets do almost nothing, that's why we invented the spray."

"You can't kill it," she whispered.

"We don't have a choice," Jack repeated. "I'm sorry."

Lois looked at him in desperation. Even the Weevil had cocked its head as though it were trying to elicit sympathy from the Captain. "We have enough to sedate it temporarily, don't we?"

"Yeah, for about two minutes." Jack was still aiming his Webley straight at the Weevil. "And then what would we do with it?"

Lois turned away. She didn't have an answer, and the Captain knew it.

A strange scraping sound came from behind the SUV, and Lois turned to see Ianto half-dragging Anna across his shoulder. She ran across to help him, and together they pulled Anna's limp form across the parking bay. Her right arm and shoulder were covered in makeshift bandages; the Weevil must have disabled her shooting arm before she collapsed from blood loss. Her eyelids were fluttering now, though. She would regain consciousness. She would recover.

Which was more than could be said for the Weevil. It was crouching now, as though trying to look small and harmless. Jack's gun had followed it to the ground.

"Jack."

The Captain shot a quick glance over at Ianto before returning to the Weevil.

"Have you still got your wriststrap with you?"

Lois frowned along with Jack. What kind of question was that at a time like this? Besides, Jack always had his wriststrap. It might as well have been fused to his skin. All the same, he nodded in reply.

Ianto nodded as well, almost to himself, and turned to Lois. "Can you hold her a moment?"

"I think so." Carefully, she took Anna's other arm, supporting the other woman's body against her own. She saw Anna wince in pain, and murmured an apology, knowing that the likelihood of it being heard was about as low as it actually being cared about.

Satisfied that Anna was in safe hands, Ianto slowly approached Jack and the Weevil. "Spray it with everything that you've got."

This time Jack really did look at Ianto in surprise. "What?" The Weevil, noticing that it was no longer being watched, lunged forwards, but Jack's gun was back on it in seconds.

"Just do it."

There was a calm assurance to Ianto's words that stopped it sounding like an order – and that, Lois suspected, was the only reason that Jack complied, because it wasn't like the Captain to ever acknowledge another authority, especially one that wasn't as great as his own.

Within seconds of the can being emptied, the Weevil had lost all will to fight. Its movements were slow and lethargic, and Lois suspected that the spray disrupted its mental state in some way. As though by some unspoken agreement, both Jack and Ianto led it towards the door that they had entered by.

They were going to trap it in the throughway.

Once the Weevil was safely contained in the area, Lois expected Ianto to lock it with his thumb, though she couldn't see any form of print pad anywhere. Instead, much to her surprise, all she saw him do was look up. Jack noticed her quizzical expression and grinned. "It's a retinal scanner on this side," he explained. "Torchwood security measurements. Can't get enough of 'em."

Lois smiled weakly. Her legs were starting to give way under Anna's weight, and Jack came to her rescue just in time. He appeared able to support Anna by himself without much trouble, which surprised Lois, given that it had taken both him and Ianto to carry in Kit's brother.

Now that the weight had been lifted off her, quite literally, Lois spent a few moments just taking in her surroundings. The parking bay was more than large enough for the SUV – perhaps big enough for six cars if they were parked closely enough. But judging by the lack of markings on the ground, Torchwood had never been in possession of more than one car. Or, if they had, the others hadn't been parked in the same place. This was SUV territory.

The second thing that she noticed was that there appeared to only be one door. The metal one that usually led to the Hub, but currently led to what would shortly be a very angry Weevil. She looked around nervously. Both Jack and Ianto seemed completely at ease. She noticed Jack staring at her. "What?"

"I was waiting for you to ask how we were going to get out. Half the fun of having new recruits is being able to explain all of the Hub's little quirks. C'mon, humour me. Besides, Ianto wants to show off his new toy."

"It is not a toy," Ianto said, with an irritated glance toward Jack. "It was a practical addition to the new Hub, which is more than can be said of your 'let's have a snooker table just because we _can_.'"

Jack looked mildly affronted. "The snooker table was completely necessary and also kinda cost less."

"Of course," Ianto replied dryly, "because you paid for this rather than ripping off Whitehall."

Jack grinned. "Okay, point taken. Now can you hurry up and show off your Bond-inspired madness already? Anna's bleeding on me, and I'd rather not have this coat dry-cleaned twice in one week."

Ianto chose to say nothing of the fact that it would, of course, be him taking the coat to the dry-cleaners (as it had been earlier that week), and instead walked across to the wall opposite the metal door, placing both his hands on it with a flourish.

Before Lois' eyes, the wall drew itself upwards, until there was just a gape where it had previously stood. Behind it was a concrete ramp, though where it led, she had no idea, as it turned a corner.

Ianto was beaming like a small child, though it was obvious he was trying to keep a straight face. "It leads up through the main car park of the Plass. We can just walk back to the Hub from here. No point taking the SUV."

"And people don't wonder why there's a dead end down here? Doesn't anybody ever try driving down?"

Jack's usual grin greeted her. "No Entry. Access Vehicles Only. It's amazing how few people bother to question signs. Particularly the British. It's one of those things, like queues and afternoon tea."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed that super-long chapter! As ever, I would love reviews, but if you only have one to spare, then I ask that you kindly send it toward The Scarf Warriors and his excellent fic The Return Trip. Don't let the formatting on the first chapter put you off; it's a fantastic story (not least because he's nicked my Torchwood team for it). And we may be running a story in parallel at some point, so it might be worth following him as an author. Go on. You know you want to go and check the fic out. **


	32. REVERSE Chapter 16

**Thank you all for your wonderful words of support for last chapter. I was tempted to update again afterwards, but we only have two more chapters after this one, and I'm not starting to update Closing Time until the 1****st**** September. So I felt it was better to space them out a little. **

**I've just finished writing the fourth chapter of Closing Time, and I'm having great fun with the new medic (he appears in the first chapter), though he's a naughty influence on Ianto. Which is probably why he's one of my favourite members of the team now, aside from Ianto and Jack. Actually, come to think of it, it's only been those three so far – the rest of the team haven't entered the writing yet. But that's to be fixed with chapter five, I think, which I'm really geared up to write. I'm just in love with the story, so I really hope it lives up to your expectations as well. And if I keep writing at this pace, I might have the whole story finished before I get back. XD**

**I just want to thank all of you for sticking with this story for so long – your words of encouragement really do keep me going (until 2am last night, but don't tell my mother). So long as you still want it, I shall continue to write. **

**moonchild, it's great to have you back! Good luck with those essays!**

**Remember to review, and to check out The Return Trip by The Scarf Warriors!**

* * *

Back at the Hub, nearly an hour later, the boardroom had undergone some temporary modification. Anna had regained consciousness and was now feeling well enough to correct Ianto's rough bandaging, and the Weevil had been locked in the cells with the aid of two further cans of spray (they really had to sort that out soon). Jack had explained about Bilis to Lois and Anna, his tone clearly indicating that there were to be no arguments, and indeed there were none. Ianto suspected that this was largely due to the fact that the other members of Torchwood had yet to encounter Bilis for themselves, and Jack had made it sound as though he were simply meeting an elderly informant.

Andy was still occupied down at the station, though Anna and Lois had managed to link the CCTV to the boardroom's main screen by themselves (they really had to sort out the rest of the internal CCTV soon, too), and had Jack make certain gestures to prove that it was in real-time – because Ianto didn't for a second trust that Bilis wouldn't attempt one of his tricks.

The vaults were otherwise empty – Kit and James had both been suitably restrained to boardroom chairs with plastic ties that would be incredibly painful to break free from – though they had left the Weevils down there. Weevils weren't much company at the best of times, not even to Owen, so Ianto doubted that Bilis would make a fuss. Besides, it was his fault that they even had a second one, and they would be a long time forgiving him for it mauling Anna. Particularly when it meant that they had lost one of their best shots.

So it would be just Jack and Bilis, with the Weevils as their audience down below and the Torchwood team as their audience up above. It didn't take long for the old man to arrive, though he came from an unexpected direction. Torchwood had long since arrived at the conclusion that Bilis was able to teleport (or step through time, as he sometimes referred to it), but he always appeared to make his entrances as bizarre as possible, and he always did it when nobody was watching.

They were watching now, of course, but there was a small blind spot in the CCTV that they hadn't noticed until after it had been installed – and even then, they hadn't bothered correcting it, because it was quite literally in the middle of one of the cells. But this was, of course, where Bilis stepped out from. The Weevil occupying the cell, however, didn't appear to mind that an old man had suddenly materialised before it. In fact, it didn't take much notice at all.

Bilis knocked politely on the plastic front of the cell; Jack opened it with his wriststrap before even confirming it to be Bilis. A show of confidence. He turned on his heel and nodded towards the old man, receiving a smile in return. "Bilis."

"Jack."

"Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"That, dear Jack, would be telling."

"Kinda the point, Bilis." Jack raised his eyebrows. "Or d'you mean to tell me you came all this way just for a glimpse of my pretty face?"

Bilis sighed, his face heavy with the gesture. "You really are an arrogant man, Jack."

"Funny, I could say the same for you. You're always claiming to know so much 'beyond our understanding', but you're not so quick to prove it."

"Beyond their understanding, Jack." Bilis gestured around. "Not beyond yours. You have stepped through time and seen the future – you are beyond this by very definition. Beyond them. You are capable of understanding so much more. You and I, Jack, are capable of existing outside of time itself – it is ours to manipulate."

A sudden thought struck Jack, and he eyes Bilis with distrust. Only one other man had ever spoken to him as though time was a plaything, had ever smiled as though he knew the secrets of the very universe itself. And while that was where the similarities between the two ended, the Doctor himself had admitted that he used to look far older. And though the Doctor had called himself the last, the Doctor had been wrong before. "Are you a Timelord, Bilis?"

Bilis tittered with laughter. "Heavens, no. The Timelords felt themselves above all else – justice incarnate – gods! You already know, Jack, that I am but a humble servant of my Lord Abaddon."

Jack tried hard not to roll his eyes. "Yeah, right. Forgot." All the same, there was definitely something inhuman about an old man, perhaps even older than he looked, being as spritely and as light-footed as a man a third his apparent age. And on top of that, there was Bilis' ability to not only teleport, but to see the future – or rather, a myriad of possible futures – and to communicate these to others by touch.

As though he were able to read Jack's thoughts, Bilis bounded a step forwards, a smile covering his face but not quite reaching his eyes. "I am as human as you yourself, Jack."

"Not very, then."

"Perhaps not. And yet, you cling to them. To your little Torchwood team. And you pretend, Jack, that you can still be human – and they pretend that you can, too. They pretend that you are all they need, and that you will always be there for them, when in actual fact you have never been there for them, because there is no more place for you here than there is anywhere in the universe."

"Seriously, go into counselling," Jack advised sharply. "Or write fortune cookies. I'm sure somebody out there could use your help."

Bilis smiled sadly. "It is you who needs my help, Jack."

"Not when your 'help' involves setting Weevils loose on members of my team, I don't."

"Jack, Jack, Jack…You are so very blind, for one who has seen so much. Perhaps that is why. Perhaps you have already seen too much of this imperfect universe, and you prefer to close your eyes and wish it away."

"Seriously, Bilis, do you want to try making sense for once?"

"I did not set that Weevil upon young Anna. It merely followed the trail of blood that your SUV so carelessly left behind. Had you opened your eyes, Jack, you might have seen that."

Jack was silent.

"But that is not what I came here to make you understand."

"So hurry up and enlighten me," Jack said angrily. "I have better things to do with my time."

"_That_ is why I am here." Seeing the look of incomprehension on Jack's face, Bilis continued. "Timelines, Jack. Such beautiful, delicate things, composing the structure of the universe. You understand them so much more than any other human – how many times have you crossed your own now?"

Jack shrugged, unable to answer (like his age, he'd given up counting), but it must have been a rhetorical question, for Bilis carried on regardless. "Our timelines, Jack, are so ridiculously interwoven that we might even be said to be knotted into each others' lives." Jack snorted. "And that is why I am here. To prevent damage to our complex woven structure. You cannot be killed, Jack, but you can die. If you rewrite your own history, if this present is changed, then you might simply cease to exist."

Jack looked at him for a second, keeping his face impassive. It was entirely theoretical, of course, but Bilis might actually be onto something there. Jack's life could never be taken away (Rose had seen to that), but it was possible that his existence could. "If what you're saying is true – which is unlikely, as ever – then why tell me? Why say so now?"

Bilis smiled, and for once, there was no underlying smirk. "Our timelines are interwoven, Jack – we are so much more a part of each other than you can ever be with any of your fleeting companions on this Earth. And this is where we meet – have met, will meet – for the first time. Change this, and you will change who we both are, have been, and will become."

"I've already met you several times more than I ever wanted to," Jack growled.

"In your timeline, yes. In my timeline also," he said, gesturing a hand towards his chest. "In my timeline, though…" He gestured upward in the general direction of the boardroom. "We have met only recently."

Jack's eyes widened. Everything suddenly slotted into place – the headaches that occurred whenever he was around the boy, so similar to the nausea that Tretarri had caused during Bilis' interference; the way that Bilis ceased to exist unless he was physically there; the way that Bilis seemed so interlinked with Torchwood. With him. "The boy."

"The boy," Bilis confirmed. "Otherwise known as Christopher Harman. But then, you of all people should understand one's reasoning to hide one's true name, Captain Jack Harkness."

Jack stared at him. "If that's you… I could end this. I could kill you so easily, because you're up there and defenceless, and whatever happened to make you whatever you are hasn't happened yet. You're still human, and I could just put a bullet through your head and save so many lives."

Bilis looked almost sorrowful. "You could, Jack. I almost wish that you would. I don't believe that either of us is truly happy with what we have become. And yet, we are as we are, and only that. Change one thing in your timeline, in my timeline, Jack, and you change everything. Could you act, knowing the consequences? Knowing that with that one bullet, you might cease to be Captain Jack Harkness altogether, and would certainly cease to be the man that you currently are – or at least pretend to be? It is the age-old human instinct of self-preservation, Jack, that prevents you from shooting me."

"Circular causality," Jack muttered, as though the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Your future self is what causes your past self to become you. And you're using me as your pawn."

"Oh, dear Jack. I would hate for you to think of yourself as so insignificant. After all, it is you who controls the board. You could sacrifice yourself to save the thousands that you claim have died at my hands – not to mention any that may die as a result of my existence in the future. A great number of lives, Jack. Is yours worth it?"

Jack glanced up at the camera, meeting the eyes of those he knew would be watching. Then he turned back to Bilis, fixing his glare upon the old man once more. "It would be worth it, if I believed your lies."


	33. REVERSE Chapter 17

**Aaaaw, thank you for all those reviews! I think those were my favourite batch of responses; I loved them all!**

**moonchild - There will be something to tide you on, but it won't be the Fourteen series. You will enjoy it, though, I'm sure. It's what I mentioned before when I told you to watch this space. Time Lord probably is two words - I have a nasty habit of noun-linking words like sidestreet, and people keep telling me off. I can't go back and change it yet (stupid dial-up), but I'll spell it properly from now on. **

**Veronica - I'm not sure how he got into time travel. I'm sure it wasn't the Doctor, and I'm sure Jack would be having Nasty Words if it was John Hart. **

**Squtternut - I'm glad the title's fallen into place. When I started the story, I wasn't going to put Bilis in at all, but it sort of all clicked while I was writing. I smiled at your and moony's references of timey-wimeyness. XD **

**Kimly - I love character introspection. I just couldn't resist throwing in that particular bit that you quoted.**

**Janto - Thanks for the wonderful words of assurance and praise. **

**Basically, thank you all, and I hope that you like this chapter, because this is pretty much the end of the plot. The next (and final) chapter is just a bit of fluff and wrapping up loose ends. Not all of which will be wrapped up in this episode, but...**

**Anyway. Read, enjoy, review!**

* * *

Bilis clapped his hands and laughed, as though he found Jack's response entertaining.

"I'll admit, there's some creepy semblance between that boy and you – you both make me ill, for a start. But if you think I'll believe even for a second that you'd rest your fate in my hands, you're more of an idiot than I thought. So the logical conclusion is that you're trying to trick me into killing him. Maybe he's the only one that can destroy you or something, and maybe you can't kill him yourself because of that. But if that was really you, you wouldn't take the risk of telling me. You said it yourself – self-preservation."

The two men faced each other in silence for a moment, the reverse of each other – one looking far older than he felt, the other feeling far older than he looked.

Then Bilis broke the silence. "You know, Jack, it amuses me how distrusting you are. I do not tell you this so that you might kill me, but rather so that you know what is at stake, should the correct actions not be taken."

"I've never obeyed your orders before, Bilis, and I'm not about to start now. I've seen what happens when you do what you think is good and right, and I'm not about to let another dark god out of the cupboard."

"Nothing like that this time, Jack, I'm afraid." Bilis smiled. "Perhaps when we next meet – and I'm sure we will. We shall always meet, I think. I shall jump between the years as though they have no bearing on me, and you shall continue to drag your timeline in a straight line for as long as you can, in an attempt to fit in with your…people. And every so often, we shall meet."

"I try to look forward to the better things in life, Bilis. Don't ruin my day."

Bilis ran his spidery fingers along one of the vault walls. "That is never my intent, Captain. I merely wish to prevent you tampering with our current timeline. That is all."

"And how do you suggest I do that? Not saying that I'll do it, mind you, but I'll at least hear you out."

Bilis clapped his hands once more. "Excellent. I do love to see you being compliant for once, Jack. It is such a rarity."

"Yeah, well. Forgive me for not always wanting to comply with plans to open Rifts and resurrect dark gods."

"You're beginning to sound much like a broken record, Captain."

Jack smirked. "You live long enough, you're bound to repeat yourself one day. So. What's this cunning plan of yours?"

"I am afraid, dear Jack, that the details are a mystery even to me. Which I believe hints at the involvement of your delightful amnesia pill."

"Erase everything? That would take a lethal dosage."

"I assure you, he will survive. As for what he then becomes – as for what we then become, Jack – that is left to you. I suppose you shall earn my gratitude, such as it is. I might even leave you a gift."

Jack eyed him with suspicion. "And where do Torchwood Four come into this? Were you the one that made them go psycho and start experimenting on their own families?"

"No need to sound quite so angry, Captain. I assure you I did only what was necessary to preserve the future. Including, of course, hiding it from you until the time came for you to know of it."

"How?" Jack demanded. "How did you get into the Hub database to delete the files?"

"I didn't. You did. And such an excellent job, too, hiding the records in such a fashion that was too simple for your delightful Toshiko to ever think of, so that they remained a secret until young Ms Habiba arrived. Very clever indeed, Captain. I merely transported the new file circuitry back to the relevant time."

He smiled, knowing that Jack would be remembering the sudden appearance of the computer systems in the Hub, knowing that he would be kicking himself for not questioning it because he was just freelance back then and things came and went all the time without him knowing about them.

"As I said, Captain, we are very much knotted into each others' lives. More so even than this, though of course you remain blind to the bigger picture."

"At least I don't try to manipulate life itself," Jack snarled, a clear image of the mutilated Weevil-woman in his mind's eye. All of it, all the deaths and suffering of Torchwood Four – it was all because of Bilis. All because, in his mind, the ends justified the means. "At least I have some sort of moral compass."

"It is your morality that blinds you," Bilis answered, turning away to glance at the Weevils in their cells. "You are so focused on fitting in with these insignificant humans, so convinced that the creatures in their cages are all that there is in the universe, that you forget that you are part of something so much bigger."

"And you're so focused on playing things safe and as they're meant to be that you never take a risk. You don't see the beauty of the fall because you won't go anywhere near the edge of the cliff."

"We each have our curses, Captain. Mine is knowing. Yours is being. And while I am bound by the fear of knowing that the fall is more than I could survive, and that in most foreseeable futures, I would die through getting too close to the edge – so, too, are you bound in fear that you might cease to be, because life is all that you have in this world." He turned back to Jack, a sad and oddly reminiscent smile on his face. "And so, you will do all that you can to live – whether it is feeling alive in the arms of your Ianto Jones or whoever else happens to be at hand, or keeping alive by doing whatever you have to do, even if it means the suffering of others. Such as it does now."

"What's the point? Why should I Retcon the boy if he'll just become you because of it, and remember all the suffering that was inflicted upon him? I have enough people that hate me without adding another to the list!"

"To offer him a few years of peace, and of blissful ignorance," Bilis said. "Because by the time he remembers, he will understand that it was necessary. Because you need him safe, and you cannot bring yourself to kill him."

Jack jabbed his finger furiously in Bilis' direction. "I've had memories taken from me before. Four years' of them. That screwed me up enough. Why would I take fifteen years from that kid's life if it won't do anything, if it won't make any difference? If he'll still end up screwed up?"

Bilis laughed. "Because you are blind to the bigger picture, Jack. And so you can still hold hope."

Jack blinked, and Bilis was gone.

_Dear Bilis Manger,_

_Yes, that is your name, though you won't remember it. Apologies about that. The fact is that you won't remember much at all – again, apologies. Your memories have been wiped. Every last one of them, so you'll have to start again. Maybe it will be better this way – maybe you'll have a chance this time around. _

Somehow, Jack doubted it. After all, wasn't that why he had started the letter as he had done?

_Best wishes for the future, or what there is of it. We'll meet again, so I'm told, and I can only hope it's under somewhat more fortuitous circumstances. _

Again, Jack doubted it.

_I shall understand perfectly if you hate me for what I have done (and what was done, I assure you was done with regret), yet it was entirely for your own benefit – I have that on better authority than my own. _

That part, at least, was true.

_Even so, I am sure that you will resent me for it. You will forgive me, in time, but not for a long while, I'm afraid. When you are ready for answers (and I know you'll think you are now, but you're not – wait a few years, have a peaceful life – you'll know when the time comes), look for Torchwood. We're pretty difficult to find, but you'll get there eventually. _

_Until then,_

_CJH  
Captain Jack Harkness_

It was only as Jack signed his initials that he realised that, Bilis Manger aside, he and Christopher J Harman had something in common. But the thought passed in little more than an instant, and then the letter was sealed in an envelope, stamped with the Torchwood insignia, and placed in Jack's coat pocket.

Later, he would hand it to a boy with no memory, deliberately setting in motion the chain of events that would lead to the very creation of Bilis Manger. Goodness knew what would happen after that, how the boy would become the inhuman Bilis, how he would receive his own curse of knowledge and learn to step through time. Jack wasn't sure he wanted to know. Not yet, anyway.


	34. REVERSE Chapter 18

**I really hate ending the episode with such a short chapter. Sorry about that. **

**Some of your reviews actually made me cry (actually, it might have been the hot curry I just ate, but I maintain it was the reviews).**

**Squtternut - I am indeed screwing with the big ball of timey-wimeyness, which IS going somewhere, but I haven't decided anything for certain yet. I prefer keeping myself in suspense as I write; it churns out little surprises every so often. For instance, I kept mentioning how James and Kit looked similar before I'd even decided on bringing Bilis into it - it just slotted together so perfectly! **

**Lucy, you'll have to forgive me waxing philosophy at you (maybe it'll help with your essays; you could list Jack Harkness as one of your sources. XD) but it's a little hard not to when writing Bilis.**

**Adele - I think Jack hides his name because he wants to hide who he used to be. At one point in the series he says something along the lines of, "Here and now, that's what I'm proud of", which is one of my favourite quotations. I've thought about it, and I may do something with it later, but not for a little while. **

**Kimly - Timey-wimey IS factual scientific terminology, silly. Thanks for the reassurance; I was worried about how forced the letter would seem. ****There was meant to be a page break just before the letter in the last chapter, actually, but the ones that I use disappear when I upload and I forgot to put it back in.**

**Veronica - Nothing is ever as it seems. Bad decisions can have good consequences, and vice versa, and there's really no way to tell this early in the game. You never know.**

**I'm surprised nobody's guessed the medic yet. Admittedly, he's not actually referenced as a medic in the book, but I managed to work out that that was probably his role. I've been dropping hints throughout this entire episode. No, it's not the old guy from The House That Jack Built (I haven't read that yet). And OF COURSE Kit/Bilis will be back at some point in the future; you don't think you can get rid of him that easily, do you? XD**

**Last chapter until September, so I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

He met Andy on his way out of his office, who pressed several pages of reports and case files into his hands before ducking his head and scurrying out of the way. The rest of the team had returned to their regular duties – Jack suspected that Ianto had taken charge in his absence.

"Lois?" he called.

She turned from her workstation. "Yes, Captain?" she asked tentatively. No wonder – none of them had any idea what had been spoken of in the vaults, or what Jack had been doing in his office for the past half hour.

"You got that list of Torchwood Four employees?"

She smiled and flicked through the pile of paper on the right of her workstation, pulling out two or three sheets that had been neatly stapled together. She held them out to him, but he motioned for her to keep them. "I want you to wipe all the records of them. None of these people ever existed."

Her mouth fell into a little 'o', but she had no time to question orders; Jack was already halfway across the Hub. "Andy! Help Lois, I want them cleared from the police databases as well."

Andy looked at him in confusion as he walked past. "Want who cleared?"

"Jack?" Ianto appeared at the top of the stairs leading down to the autopsy bay. "What do you want doing with the b-" He cut himself short with a glance toward Lois' monitor. "Why is that asking for security clearance? Mass file wipe – Jack, why are we doing a mass file wipe?"

He turned to face Jack with a frown, and got nothing but a cold expression in return. "Torchwood Four are being deleted." He didn't even appear to notice that his choice of phrasing made Ianto's face pale. "Wiped out of existence. They never existed anyway, not really."

"They existed well enough to mutilate that woman in the autopsy bay, Jack. They were real enough to Kit. What happens to them? What happens to the next corpse that shows up?"

Jack's expression didn't shift, though a slight sigh escaped him. "We'll deal with it when it happens, Ianto. Same as we always do. Incinerate the corpse in the bay. Destroy all the evidence that it ever existed."

"And Kit?" Ianto looked up at him with an echo of horror on his face.

Jack paused. "Level 11 Retcon."

"Jack!" Ianto was up against him in seconds. "You'll send him into a coma!"

"He'll survive."

"And what if he doesn't?"

"He will."

Ianto desperately ran a hand through his hair. "I can't, Jack. I'm sorry, I can't. We haven't tested that level of Retcon, it isn't safe-"

Jack's lips silenced his own, breaking away before Ianto had even registered the kiss. Jack ran his hands down Ianto's arms. "I'm sorry, but you have to trust me. This needs to be done."

"I do," Ianto sighed. "And I'm all the more an idiot for it."

* * *

Ianto brought coffee when he next entered Jack's office, and earned a grin for it. It wasn't a smile, but it was probably as close as he could ask for after this ordeal. He'd have been more worried if he _had_ received a smile.

"I love you," Jack murmured into the mug.

"You love my coffee, you mean."

Jack grinned. "I was talking to the coffee."

"Oh, right." The flicker of a smile graced Ianto's face. "Perhaps I ought to alert the authorities that Jack Harkness has finally cracked and started talking to inanimate objects."

Jack laughed. "I can see that phone call going down great, Ianto. 'Hello, police? I work for a secret organisation that scavenges alien technology, and we have an underground base guarded by a pterodactyl – but get this, my boss – immortal, by the way – is talking to his coffee!'"

Ianto rested his head against his palm, his smile more prominent now. "Not the exact phrasing I would use, sir." He paused. "Should I ask where you found another pterodactyl, by the way?"

"I was bored between Weevil hunts. Besides, I thought you might like another pet, and the Hub needs a guard dog. Sadly, I think we're past the point where I could convince you to debase yourself by getting on all fours and barking."

"I wasn't aware that Myfanwy ever got down on all fours and barked."

Jack grinned. "There was a lot you didn't know about me and Myfanwy."

Ianto grimaced. "For the sake of my sanity, because I really don't need that mental imagery, I'm going to pretend you never said that and quickly change the subject." Jack laughed as Ianto automatically slipped back into professional mode. "Anna and I have disposed of the body, and both of the boys have been Retconned. They didn't drop into comas, by the way. At least, they haven't yet. But I wasn't sure what names to submit them into the hospital under, so Anna's keeping them sedated for now. I tried to convince her to go home and rest, but even with a fractured shoulder she's more threatening than I am, so there wasn't much argument."

"Bilis Manger, for the dark-haired boy. You can think up a suitable name for the other one."

"Cafard," Ianto suggested. "Strong Welsh name."

Jack looked at him with a frown. "You don't seem surprised by the whole Bilis thing."

"No, well… Before Lisa was well enough to talk, she used to mouth to me. I can't read lips that well over CCTV, but I could fill in the blanks."

"Every day, Ianto. Every day, you surprise me."

"I try my best, sir."

Jack's grin fell. "When did we go back to calling me 'sir'?" he asked quietly.

"Around the time that you stopped trusting in me."

"I haven't stopped-"

"You have, Jack!" Ianto cut across. "You have, don't deny it! Ever since I died, you've been pushing me away, and it _hurts_, Jack. It _hurts_ seeing you walk past without a second glance. It _hurts_ when-" He saw Jack leaning in for a kiss, and quickly pulled away. "When you only ever do that to shut me up," he finished quietly.

"Sorry."

"Are you?" Ianto asked. "Are you actually sorry, Jack, or are you just saying that to shut me up as well? Because-"

"I don't know!" Jack interrupted. "Okay? I don't know, because I don't have all the answers that you seem to think I have."

"I only want one answer, Jack. I have hundreds of questions, but they can wait, and knowing you, they'll have to."

Jack lowered his gaze and fiddled around with the coffee mug on his desk, passing it from one of his hands to the other. "Okay," he said finally. "What's the burning question?"

"What are we?"

There were a thousand ways that Jack could have dodged the question, but he didn't. Just for once, he chose to be as honest as he could. "Us."

And it wasn't a label, it was nothing as definitive as 'a couple'. But for now, Ianto decided, it would do.

* * *

**Okay, so now time to reveal my little surprise for moonchild - my friend CommaConcept and I have revived the Thirteenth Doctor Adventures, and you can find the first chapter on her FFN profile. I hope you'll all take the time to check them out, as well as The Scarf Warriors' Return Trip. Between the three of us, we have two Doctors and a heckload of DW/TW crossovers. We'll probably be crossing over into each others' stories as well, so watch this space!**


	35. A Brief Interlude

**Right, so there's been a little bit of confusion (and lack of organisation on my part) that means that I'm having to insert a little drabble chapter in to explain some things. But first, I have a few things to explain myself. **

**As you may have guessed, I will be crossing over into The Scarf Warriors' Whoniverse at some point. However, I will also be crossing over into CommaConcept's Whoniverse, which is technically sort of my own, it being my Thirteenth Doctor. Anyway. CC and I have been carefully discussing what's going to happen in our fics, and when we're going to crossover and why, but we both got a little bit confused by the timey-wimeyness of it all, and she thought that Jack's Stolen Century (her capitalisation, not mine) happened between Reverse and Closing Time, when it was meant to happen just after Fourteen, during the six months of Hub reconstruction. **

**When it happens doesn't actually make that much difference, just so long as you know that it has happened, but I thought I'd write an extra chapter just to make things a little clearer to everyone. Because, whether or not you're going to read about Jack's adventures with the Doctor (which I recommend), you do need to know that they happened. Hopefully, this chapter insert explains the whens, whys and hows of the situation enough, and also explains a little bit of Jack's erratic behaviour (which will be explained more in Closing Time, when Ianto will also Get Revenge). **

**And now for a quick pimp of the other fics:**

**The Thirteenth Adventures by CommaConcept (which has no reviews yet; have pity!)**

**Return Trip by The Scarf Warriors (which could do with more reviews as well)**

**And now I shall leave this chapter for your perusal, and see you on the 1st September.**

* * *

The thing about life as a con-man was that you could never quite leave it behind. Tucked away in the 21st century, very few people would be looking for him, Jack knew, and those that did probably wouldn't find him. Even when one did – his mind sprang instantly to John Hart – they were usually easily dealt with. That wasn't what bothered him.

What bothered him wasn't that his old life kept catching up with him, but that he couldn't help catching up with his old life. Even – he paused for a quick calculation – nearly three thousand years after supposedly leaving that all behind, he was still the same man underneath. Sure, there was now the façade of a selfless protector of the Earth, but a façade was all that it was. He still cheated, lied, swindled, threatened and murdered. He just did it for Torchwood these days, rather than the Time Agency.

And he still broke his promises.

He had no excuse, and he knew that. That was what, if anything, made it worse. Nobody had made him leave, much as he tried to pin the blame on the Doctor and that irresistible smile of his – and he knew that excuse would never slide with Ianto. Oh God, Ianto.

Replaying the moment in his mind over and over, Jack had come to the conclusion that if Ianto had been there at the time, there was absolutely no way that he would have ever left. How could he have done? He could never abandon those stormy blue eyes, those beautiful Welsh vowels, that dry wit, that cheeky but oh-so-perfect smile. Those cups of coffee.

Except that, over the years, Jack had grown a little colder, a little harder – yes, he loved them, but in the end he knew they would abandon him, and when he was left alone, he didn't mourn them as much as he used to. Maybe that instinct had become a little too strong, to allow him to leave Ianto the second that he left his side – maybe it had been confused by Ianto's death during the incident with the 456 – Jack didn't know.

All Jack knew was that a few weeks ago, he had lost another century of his life. No, not lost – given. Given even more willingly than he'd given two millennia to Gray. And that century had been nothing short of…brilliant, really. Fantastic. Amazing. Spectacular. All of those words and so much more. Because he'd been with his Doctor.

He hadn't meant to run away – he'd promised never to leave them again. It just sort of…happened. The Hub structure had been rebuilt, and Jack had been left to install what little of the technology they had been able to salvage from the blast. And Jack wasn't one to just sit around doing the same thing all day. He kept a keen eye on the Rift monitor, just in case there was the promise of a Weevil hunt to distract him, and even they became boring in the end – he must have tagged half the population of the sewers in one month.

It might have been bearable if Ianto had been there – and he didn't just mean about the coffee.

But Ianto hadn't been there; he'd been off with Rhiannon, because Jack had stupidly promised him and Gwen a holiday at last, so long as they stayed in the country and stayed in regular contact. And they had done, both of them – Gwen had kept him up to date on every little detail of her pregnancy, sounding strangely maternal all of a sudden (Jack blamed it on the hormones); Ianto had asked him all about how the reconstruction project was coming and Jack had done his best to lie and actually make it sound exciting. He had heard a man (Rhiannon's husband, he assumed) making crude jokes in the background, and had said some very rude things in return, which he guessed Ianto hadn't repeated to the perpetrator. But mostly they had talked about nothing much, because there was nothing much to talk about – what did they talk about all the time, Jack was left wondering? He concluded that most of it wasn't the sort of thing they could say over the phone.

So he had been bored and, yes, a little lonely. But he'd vowed to stick through it, because it needed to be done, and because what else was there to do?

And then the Doctor had arrived. No warning (though the Doctor rarely gave them), no knocking on the door or any sort of polite gesture like that. One minute, Jack had been working on repairing the mainframe computer (it broke, three days after he installed it, just to spite him), and the next minute there was a familiar whirring sound as the TARDIS landed right beside him. Which Jack had only himself to blame for, because he had meant to set the Hub defences up the day before and had been too lazy, telling himself he would do it tomorrow instead. Tomorrow, as it turned out, was a little late.

The TARDIS exterior was made of sleek mirrorglass these days, rather than the familiar blue wood. And the man who stepped out of it was ginger rather than the familiar brunette. He was taller, thinner, paler. Grey-green eyes and a dark green scarf that matched them but clashed horribly with his hair, as well as a distinctive and rather fetching knee-length coat. All a little bit different but strangely familiar.

"Want to come onboard?"

That was all he had said, other than silencing Jack's complaints and promising to have him back 'in no time at all', and from first impressions, he'd guessed this Doctor to be less of a talker than Ten. Boy, did he get that one wrong. Thirteen could've talked the head off of Ten in his sleep. Jack couldn't even get him to shut up as he lay dying, though maybe it was better that way – like he was distracting Jack from what was happening, saving him the pain of losing somebody else.

As it turned out, he had been distracting Jack, but not from that. By the time Jack realised, it was too late; his Doctor had already activated the vortex manipulator and sent him flying back through time – without a capsule. Again. And Jack could have sworn it tore through him even worse than it had done the previous two times, except that he didn't even care, because it was nothing compared to the pain of losing – actually losing – his Doctor.

And after the cursing, the grief, the heartbreak – Jack had actually looked back up and seen where he was. The Hub. A second after he left it. Listening closely, he could even hear the ghost of the TARDIS in the air. Jack had laughed at the irony of it all – the one time that the Doctor had been spot-on, and it had literally been the last thing that he had done.

After a century of travelling and having the most wonderful time of his life, after having it brutally ripped from him, Jack was back in a world convinced that nothing had happened, when he knew that it had. So for a long while, he merely sat in silence, grieving the man that nobody knew had died. Except for him. There were only a handful of people that would have understood anything of what he had been through, most of them dead. John Hart would understand but not be able to comfort him. Gwen – Gwen wasn't in any sort of state to be put through trauma, not when she was happy with Rhys and her little bundle of joy. Which left only Ianto.

Fate certainly was cruel when the person he most wanted to talk to was the one least likely to understand.

Ianto would know the right words to say, Jack knew. Even if he tried not to say them, even if he tried to hate the Doctor and not care, he cared about Jack, and – because of Jack – he knew what it was like to have a loved one die right in front of his eyes.

But Jack could never admit the truth of what had happened, because it would break Ianto's heart, and he couldn't do that. Ianto might understand his pain, but he would never be able to understand why it was caused in the first place – he wouldn't understand why Jack had left, why Jack had broken his promise.

So Jack didn't tell him. He just continued like the rest of the world, acting as though nothing had happened, as though nobody had died. Suffering in silence, because it was better that he suffer than Ianto, or anybody else. Suffering in silence, because he couldn't bear to tell the truth. Because deception was easier.

Because he was still a con-man at heart.


	36. CLOSING TIME Chapter 1

**WELCOME TO THE NEW EPISODE, CLOSING TIME! **

**There won't be any dillying about this time - straight into the mayhem, as I'm sure you'll be able to tell by this chapter. **

**Oh, and check out: community (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) fourteenfandom. That's where the three authors (myself, CC and Scarf Warriors) are discussing our various plots, so you can see where we're going with the plot, and vote for what you'd like to see next, who you'd like to see get together - that sort of thing, as well as character profiles and drabbles. Anyway, it's a little lonely with just the three of us, so please join in and chat! **

**bbmcowgirl - I'm the author of Fourteen. CommaConcept is the author of The Thirteenth Adventures. The Scarf Warriors is the author of Return Trip. All three of our fics cross over into each other. Hope that clears things up. **

**Please review and let me know what you think. We'll be back to 9pm updates for a while, hurrah! **

* * *

"Jack?" Ianto's head peered around the doorway of the office.

"Mm?" Jack didn't actually glance up, as he was absorbed – well, perhaps irritated would have been a better word – by a stack of reports that UNIT had sent him. He might even have answered them, had they been sent care of Martha Jones, but they had been stamped rather than signed, and sent by courier, and Jack wasn't the sort of man to respond to the impersonal approach. He wondered briefly what sort of reaction he'd get from Whitehall if he returned the reports with rude post-it notes attached (he had quite a supply in his desk drawer, some even with pictures – he and Ianto got so bored during boardroom meetings).

But Ianto interrupted his train of thought. "1941. Were you working for Torchwood back then?"

"Hm?" Jack looked up. He hadn't been expecting a question like that. "Yeah… Freelance. Why?"

Ianto jerked his thumb backward. "Been down in the morgue, trying to sort through and see what survived the blast. The upper levels were blown to pieces, so we lost most of the uncatalogued lot, but we've still got several floors of Torchwood employees relatively undamaged." He saw Jack's attention wavering, and quickly skipped to the point. "Anyway, in the reports, all the archivists have noted that Tray 18's been empty – one Gregory Phillip Bishop, reported dead in 1941."

"Oh." Jack's expression was unreadable. "Ignore that tray. Greg went….missing. Presumed dead." He waved a hand at Ianto. "Don't worry about it."

"Can't really help worrying about it, Jack," Ianto said hesitantly. "Because there _is_ a body in Tray 18."

Jack looked up again for a second, saw no trace of humour on Ianto's face, and subsequently bolted out of the office, scattering the UNIT reports in his wake.

* * *

As Ianto pulled the tray out once more, he heard Jack exhale sharply behind him. "I'm guessing that's Greg, then?"

"Yeah," Jack murmured, moving closer and resting his hands on the edge of the tray. "That's Greg all right." He removed one of his hands from the tray and ran it through Greg's hair. It was dark, darker than Ianto's, and Jack remembered the gorgeous blue eyes that lay under those closed lids. The smile was gone from the young man's face now (how old had he been? Not more than twenty-five, as Jack recalled) , but he remembered that, too. And those wonderful cheekbones, they were there still. Jack ran his finger along them, stopped abruptly.

"Jack?" Ianto asked tentatively.

"I felt him breathing," Jack whispered, his fingers rushing down to meet Greg's neck. "Ianto, he has a pulse!"

Ianto stared at him for a moment in shock, then reached for Greg's shoulders. Simultaneously, Jack slipped his arms underneath to support his legs, and together they lifted him from the freezing tray and onto the cold stone floor.

Jack crouched beside the lifeless body. Ianto stood for a moment before kneeling beside him. "Jack, you imagined it. He's been in sub-zero temperatures. Even if he was alive before, he won't be now. You probably just felt the air being propelled in the tray." He didn't meet the Captain's eye, because he could tell from the way Jack was looking at the other young man that something had gone on. And while Ianto didn't probe into the whys and wherefores, he hated watching Jack say goodbye again. He hated seeing him break just that little bit more, because he knew that he could never fix it.

Although this might be what he needed. Jack's expression when he explained that Greg had gone missing told Ianto that it was unresolved. That Greg hadn't left of his own accord, that Jack had never had the chance to say goodbye.

But Jack didn't seem to be wasting words on farewells now, either. "Then how do you explain the pulse?"

Ianto was silent. Because if you want something enough, reality starts to fade away. And both he and Jack knew that unspoken reasoning. "I didn't imagine it, Ianto. Just like the rest of the archivists didn't imagine that he was missing. If his body can suddenly turn up back in the morgue, then why is it so impossible that he's alive?"

"Because we like to think that the Hub defences are impenetrable, whereas last time I checked, it was scientific fact that the human body couldn't survive fifty degrees below zero for more than a few minutes. If that."

"So maybe he wasn't in there that long." Jack was holding Greg's wrist firmly with one hand, and still stroking his hair with the other. Droplets of water were forming on the strands, condensation from the sudden change in temperature.

Ianto grimaced. "Jack, it took me a couple of minutes to walk up to your office and talk to you, and that was after I'd taken the time to re-read the reports on him. All things considered, for him to still be alive, he would have to have been placed in cryogenic suspension literally a second before I opened the tray."

"So maybe he was."

"Jack, I'm aware that this is Torchwood, but can we try and employ some sort of logic, just this once?"

Jack cut him off with a single word. "Bilis."

Ianto stared at him. "What does Bilis have to do with this?" A trace of fear lingered in his eyes, quickly masked by an outward display of irritation as he crossed his arms and frowned. They had only just gotten rid of Bilis. He hated the thought that the old man might be back quite so suddenly.

"Everything." Jack seemed surprised by the look of incomprehension on Ianto's face. "That was how Greg went missing. Bilis took him. For the sake of the Light creatures." Ianto still didn't look like he understood. "Tretarri."

As soon as he spoke that word, comprehension dawned. Ianto remembered Tretarri – tried not to, because it brought along with it memories of a future in which the Torchwood team had been possessed, and Jack imprisoned, and Ianto had died trying to save him. Not that Ianto had ever admitted this future to the Captain, because goodness knew Jack had a big enough ego as it was, and Ianto was afraid enough to admit how he felt about Jack in words, let alone with actions. He guessed that Jack knew, and that was enough. But he now remembered seeing the young man's face before, as an image created by halogen Light. "You think that Bilis just decided to give Greg back?"

The sarcasm was evident in Ianto's voice, which was hardly unexpected. Bilis had never been one for helping them; he always had some ulterior motive. Besides, why now? Greg had been taken in 1941 – why return him in 2009? There didn't appear to be any strange significance to it.

"How else do you explain it, Ianto?" asked Jack. "Who else do you know that can get in and out of the Hub without us knowing, and that can move people from one time to another?"

He was employing logic now, and Ianto didn't like it. "Okay. So, for now, let's assume that Bilis did this." Ianto gestures toward the thawing body. "How do you know that's Greg? It could be a trap, Jack. More than likely, it is."

"I'm aware of that." Jack hardly expected Bilis to suddenly return his former team-member out of the goodness of his heart. All the same, hadn't the old man mentioned something about thanking Jack for his (involuntary) hand in Bilis' creation? _I might even leave you a gift. _So that was what this was. Greg was some sort of strange peace offering from Bilis Manger.

The grip on his wrist tightened, and Jack looked down to find Greg's fingers curled tightly around his own. Ianto watched this with alarm. "Okay, so there is the slightest chance that he might be alive after all," he admitted, a mixture of fear and amazement in his voice.

Greg's eyes fluttered before revealing another pair of gorgeous blue eyes to the world. His first new breath carried a quiet word. "Jack."

And then he was smiling all over his face, and pushing himself up from the cold stone floor, though he was too weak to support his own numb body. Jack moved to catch him as he fell forward and found Greg's lips rested on his own before he could protest – but why would he protest? Oh God, he'd forgotten how good Greg was with his tongue- oh – they hadn't – hadn't kissed like this since Greg had been stolen from him – moments before, in fact, when he'd nearly been shot – when he'd collapsed in Jack's arms, sobbing and kissing – like they were now.

Jack's fingers automatically trailed down Greg's shoulder, felt along the places that he knew his arm had been broken. There was nothing there now. He felt the young man's tongue press harder against his own – and then they broke apart, interrupted by the noise of Ianto shifting awkwardly to his feet nearby.

Greg turned to stare at the unfamiliar face for a second, then bit his lip. "I suppose you must be my replacement," he murmured, and Ianto's pity was quickly overcome with seething rage – how dare this young man suggest that he had been a replacement? It wasn't as though someone from 1941 would have been the first himself, and Ianto half-opened his mouth to say something.

But Greg's attention had already been diverted elsewhere, to the man who now had his arms wrapped firmly around him. He stroked Jack's cheek gently. "He said you needed a medic," he whispered in Jack's ear. "But I suppose I'm late as always, aren't I, Jack?" He glanced back across at Ianto. "I could be an assistant though, couldn't I?"

Ianto, who had only heard this last remark, and not the ones previous, widened his eyes. "Pardon?"

Greg looked at him desperately. "You must need some sort of help. I mean… I could clean up afterwards, if you like. Or I could pass you surgical instruments." Ianto frowned as him, sure that they had gotten their wires crossed at some point during this conversation.

Jack cupped Greg's cheeks in his hands. "He's not our medic," he said gently. "He's our archivist."

Greg's eyes widened. "Like Rhydian?" Jack nodded. "Then why is he wearing surgical gloves?"

"Because I was checking on bodies in the morgue," Ianto replied, sounding rather matter-of-fact as he gestured around them. "Can't say I was expecting one to still have a pulse, but then, this is Torchwood. Six impossible things before breakfast."

Greg smiled nervously, as though he were afraid to laugh. "I can't say I ever honestly expected to be back here." His fingers found Jack's cheek once more. "I missed you."

Jack smirked at him, though there was warmth behind it. "It's only been days for you. You can't have missed me that much."

"I did."

"Greg?" Ianto regarded him with a mild expression. "I may be the archivist, but I'm also a trained field officer, so I carry a gun that I know how to use. Kiss Jack again and I'll be very tempted." He smiled.

Greg just chuckled.


	37. CLOSING TIME Chapter 2

**Many thanks to my FANTASTIC beta, Storms-Are-My-Nature, for reading this through and being wonderfully nit-picky. It's thanks to her that an extra couple of hundred words went into this chapter. **

**I'd love to hear everyone else's thoughts, though, so please review! And don't forget to check out the fourteenfandom community on livejournal! **

* * *

"You didn't need to act quite so jealous," Jack said angrily when they were alone in his office once more, having left Greg to investigate the medical bay.

Ianto crossed his arms. "What were you expecting me to do, Jack? Just sit there while—" He rolled his eyes. "You know what? Forget it. Obviously, I should have just nodded along and let a complete stranger bite your mouth off." He gave Jack a pointed look.

Jack just shrugged. "All I'm saying is that you might be a little more sensitive. He's seventy years from his original timeline, having been kidnapped and held hostage God only knows where, and I'm the only person that he remembers, okay?"

"Looked like he remembered you pretty well, too," Ianto commented. He was sitting atop Jack's desk by this point, as he often did. The difference was that this time, Jack wasn't seated in his chair, leaning on the desk with either his elbows or his boots (and Ianto really did try his best to stop him doing that); instead, he was pacing the room, keeping more distant than usual.

"Okay, seriously, Ianto. It's been seventy years for us, but as far as he's concerned, he was able to kiss me like that just yesterday. Let him adjust gradually, at least."

Ianto heaved a sigh. "Fine. And in the meantime, I'm supposed to just let it slide? What about when he starts asking for more than just a kiss?"

"He won't," Jack assured him. "It was the forties, Ianto, right in the middle of the war. People weren't so open about it."

Ianto matched the angry tone that remained in Jack's voice. "Don't try telling me nothing happened, Jack."

"I don't deny it," Jack said, more willingly than Ianto would have liked. "But back in the forties, you took what you got because you never talked about those sorts of things."

"Must have suited you to a tee."

Jack glared at him. "What I'm saying is that he won't bring it up. It's a taboo subject for him. Back in the forties, everybody spoke in these wonderful metaphors – it was like the word 'sex' didn't exist." There was a reminiscent tone to his voice that might have made Ianto more jealous if he hadn't understood that Jack's longing was for the era rather than for Greg. It was strange that a time gone by could suit a man from the future so perfectly, but Ianto wasn't going to complain. Not while the Captain continued to look so dashing in period military. "Instead, it was your 'last night before the trenches'. Usually. Even when you weren't serving on the front line, you just didn't talk about it. Closest I ever got from Greg was a shy 'Do you want to?'" Jack had stopped pacing by this point and was stood against one of the glass walls, facing Ianto. "So, no. He won't be expecting anything."

After a moment of silence, Ianto inched himself back from the desk and onto the floor, so that he and Jack were stood opposite each other. "So you're just going to act as though nothing's happened and hope that he takes the hint?"

"I won't act like nothing's happened. I'll just make it clear enough what's happening now."

"So one day you're together and the next you're not. In his timeline."

Jack frowned. "Okay, you're gonna have to be a bit clearer, Ianto, because I'm not sure what it is you want me to do."

Ianto paused and turned away. "Let me talk to him."

"Before, you were making death threats, and now you want to talk to him?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

Ianto shrugged as he walked out of the door. It was just one of those things that Jack was incapable of understanding – Ianto sometimes wondered if he'd had to exchange his human insight for that immortality of his. Or maybe he just hadn't wanted to point out how alike Greg and Ianto were, in the hope that Ianto hadn't noticed. He had.

* * *

Greg looked up as he entered the medical bay, and Ianto could tell from the flicker of his eyes that he'd been expecting, or at least hoping, that it would be Jack. Ianto almost felt compelled to apologise.

"Bit different," Greg said suddenly, gesturing around.

Ianto looked at him in surprise. He had no idea what the medical bay had been like in 1941, of course, but he was willing to bet it hadn't looked like this. All of Owen's personal things had been removed, of course – boxed up, as was the Torchwood way – but there was still a lingering presence in the room, from the cupboard with the broken handle (he'd hidden the porn magazines well, but Jack had found them in the end) to the permanent mug stain on the autopsy table.

Ianto supposed that each medic, in their own way, had left an imprint on the place. He'd always wondered who it had been that had gotten the paper aeroplane wedged between the light and the ceiling – not that it mattered now. The entire ceiling had been blown off and replaced. Ianto wondered how many others had had their imprints, their vague memories, wiped from the surface of the Torchwood Hub, either by the blast or simply through time.

He wondered if Greg's own imprints were still there. Perhaps not – seventy years was a long time, and the medical bay was now covered with x-ray machines and similar modern technology. Ianto noted with surprise that Greg hadn't pointed this out. Possibly he thought they were alien devices.

"It's been seventy years. Things change." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ianto realised that he'd said the wrong thing.

Emotion crossed Greg's face for a brief moment, then he smiled, much to Ianto's surprise. "Don't worry, I won't try to pretend everything's like it was before. Not with regards to Jack, anyway." He looked away shyly. "I'm sorry about before. Heat of the moment."

Ianto looked at him strangely. "You don't need to apologise. I don't know that I'd have done any differently in your position." It was a lie; he _knew_ he wouldn't have done any differently.

He watched with some curiosity as Greg shifted one of the scalpels on the tray slightly out of position. "Too neat for you?"

Greg looked up. "Just a little," he admitted. "It doesn't seem real." Ianto wasn't sure whether he was referring to coming back, or to the state of the medical bay. "Like it hasn't been lived in."

"You have Anna to blame for that, I'm afraid. Stickler for detail."

"I thought it seemed empty around here with just the two of you. How many are there on the team these days?" Greg looked expectantly at him.

"Depends on how you count it. Jack's the head honcho, as you might've guessed. His second-in-command is Gwen, but she's off on maternity leave. So we've got a temporary replacement, as well as a couple of new recruits." Ianto attempted a smile. "Spent the past few months just trying to whip them into shape."

Greg suddenly looked uncomfortable. Ianto realised that he must have guessed that they'd recently lost half of their team. He quickly changed the subject. "So what was your Torchwood like? Back in 1941?"

"Bitch of a boss, for starters."

Ianto was thrown off guard by this sudden admission, almost as though Greg were confiding in him. He also hadn't expected language like that – between what Jack had said and his historical knowledge of the forties, he'd expected Greg to be reserved, modest. "Really? Worse than Jack?" He grinned.

Greg nodded furiously. "Bloody slave-driver. The rest of the team weren't bad – Rhydian was a smart-aleck, and Llinos could've done with a bit more of a conscience, but we got along well enough."

"But it was Jack that kept you there," Ianto said, reading between the lines.

"Him, and knowing that the alternative was a bullet through my head."

"Didn't they have Retcon back then?" Ianto looked appalled.

Greg shrugged. "They had Retcon, and they had mounds of alien technology lying around. But at the end of the day, a bullet was quicker. Our boss, Tilda—" Ianto's eyes widened as he recognised the name as belonging to the headless woman in the morgue. "She didn't like Jack. So when he suggested something, she did the opposite, just to infuriate him. Which usually involved a few more corpses than might be considered strictly necessary." He grimaced. "And she knew that I was involved with Jack, so I'd have gone the same way."

Ianto blanched. He'd worked for Torchwood One, and in London they'd had a similar policy of destroying any alien threat, however slight. But they'd never have turned it on one of their employees. He'd always thought that Torchwood Three had been a bit softer. "I didn't realise Jack had changed so much around here."

That made Greg grin, for some reason. "He always swore he'd never work full-time for Torchwood." He raised a coy eyebrow at Ianto. "Wonder what made him change his mind."

It took Ianto a second to realise what Greg was implying. "God, no! No," he repeated, hesitating a little. "I've only been working here for three years. Jack's been leader for nine, and working full-time for goodness knows how long before then. Nothing to do with me." He held up his hands in mock surrender.

"I'm sure he would have stayed for you, though. If he was still just a freelancer."

Ianto narrowed his eyes in suspicion at Greg. The compliment had come from nowhere, and that made him wary. "What makes you say that?"

Greg shrugged. "He just seems…attached to you."

It was then that Ianto understood the compliment as an acknowledgement that he was closer to Jack than Greg had been, and Greg wanted – needed? – to believe that whoever had taken his place was worth an incredible amount to Jack. He needed to know that he hadn't just been replaced by the next man that came along. Ianto also recognised the neediness to please those around him from his own early days at Torchwood, saw how Greg was standing an inch from the stairwell but not leaning on it. As though he didn't want to touch, didn't feel like he belonged in this strange new Hub.

Ianto felt a strange urge grip him, and took the young man's wrist in his hand. "Come on. Let me show you Cardiff."


	38. CLOSING TIME Chapter 3

**OK, so the Three Authors (not to be confused with musketeers) have decided something, which you may have noticed - all three of us have updated at 9pm! Woo! And perhaps with a little prompting, Mork and CC might decide to stick to daily 9pm updates. Imagine all the Whoniverse/Torchwood awesomesauce that would create. =D **

**Once again, thanks to my beta Storms-Are-My-Nature for reading this through. Although nothing was changed this time around, she made me think twice about how I'm going to handle the next couple of chapters, particularly concerning the Ianto-Jack-Greg love triangle. But rest assured, come chapter six, you'll have forgotten all about it. **

**Remember to leave reviews! I love hearing your thoughts! And check out the other two fics ('Return Trip' and 'The Thirteenth Adventures') and leave reviews there, too!**

* * *

Ianto had slipped into Jack's office to tell him that he and Greg were going out, and slipped back out again before the Captain had a chance to argue. But he stayed long enough to see the flash of disappointment on Jack's face as he realised that Ianto wouldn't be back to the Hub that night. And for that, Ianto allowed himself a brief smile as he took Greg up the elevator. It was nice to know that he would be missed.

Greg was more preoccupied with the swooping form above them. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but is that a pterodactyl?"

"Pteranodon, but I've given up correcting everyone."

"And how long has there been a ptera-something in the Hub?"

Ianto laughed. "Since I joined. Same day, actually, catching her was what convinced Jack to hire me. But that was a different one. This girl's a pretty recent catch, sometime within the past six months. She'll never quite replace Myfanwy, though." There was a hint of regret in his voice.

Greg stared at him. "Forgive my Welsh being a little rusty, but doesn't Myfanwy mean _beloved_?"

Ianto grinned. "Jack's sense of humour. Never gets tiring."

Greg shook his head. "From now on, remind me not to ask."

"Will do."

The elevator was just finishing its journey by this point, and Ianto waited a few seconds when they reached the top, to allow Greg some time to take in the surroundings before they became visible to those around them – not that there were many about. It must have been nearing midnight at this point (it was hard to pin down time in the windowless Hub, and Jack had long since hidden most of the clocks to save the team the pain of realising just how late their shifts had become. More recently, he had gotten rid of the rest of them in an effort to prevent Ianto waking him at what he considered an ungodly hour of the morning – which hadn't worked, as Ianto was naturally a morning person – so now the rest of the team just wore watches or used their mobiles). The city of Cardiff was still very much bustling at this hour, but its crowds were hidden away in restaurants and late-night bars rather than strolling across the Roald Dahl Plass.

Greg was speechless except for a small string of expletives, not all of which Ianto recognised. He reached out with his hand, like he believed that he could touch these fantastic buildings because they were so bloody big that they must be right up close. But of course they weren't.

"Welcome to the Cardiff of the new millennium." Ianto prompted him forwards from the flagstone.

"But- but there was the docks, right here, right next to the Hub," Greg insisted, turning to point back the way they had come. Of course, it was then that he saw the magnificent statue, water cascading down its front. He pointed. He just pointed, and let his mouth hang open uselessly for a second or two, because he had been rendered completely speechless. Even what Ianto assumed were old Welsh oaths failed him now. "We just came from there," he managed finally.

Ianto smiled and bowed his head slightly. "Yes we did."

"From that? The-the fountain? Torchwood's in the fountain?"

"Technically, Torchwood is underneath. But essentially, yes."

"That's…ridiculous." But Greg wasn't looking at Ianto in disbelief, but in amazement. A grin split his face wide open. "That is utterly, fantastically, bloody ridiculous."

Ianto had to agree with that.

Greg's head swung from one direction to the next, trying to take in every inch of the city that he no longer recognised. He turned back to Ianto. "So when did all of this happen? What happened to the Butetown docks?"

"The docks were reclaimed in 1987. They'd fallen into disrepair in the sixties, because people stopped using as much coal. So the land got bought up, and the workers were given jobs in the reconstruction of Cardiff." Ianto gestured around. The lights of the night-vibrant city burned brighter than the few stars that were visible. It was a remarkably clear evening; usually the sky was clouded over.

"Sorry." He heard the apology, and turned to find Greg sat at his feet, staring at the stone slabs that formed the floor of the Plass. Even they were unfamiliar. "Bit much."

"Culture shock," Ianto reasoned. He held out a hand, and after a few minutes more of steady breaths to calm himself down, Greg reached up and took it. "Ready?"

"Rea-No," Greg admitted. He shot Ianto a sidelong glance. "Sorry. You must think I'm an idiot. I mean, I've seen aliens and I've been shot at, and yet I can't deal with this. It's just… Bloody hell, nothing's the same." He looked breathless and desperate. "There's just…nothing familiar. I mean, you look at a Weevil, and that's okay, because it has two eyes and two arms and two legs and you can see the vague human resemblance, even if sometimes you don't want to. Even the first time you see one, you know it, sort of. But there's nothing here that I recognise. Nothing."

Except for Jack. "Do you want to go back to the Hub?"

"No." Greg's answer was firm and resolute, but he didn't move from where he was stood beside Ianto. He just stayed and felt the wind, and shivered a little, but didn't pull his coat any tighter. Because the wind was natural, and timeless, and felt a little familiar against his skin even if it wasn't the salty breeze that he remembered. It was something.

After a while, when the silence became not awkward but prolonged, he glanced up at Ianto once more. "Would you honestly trust me alone in the Hub?"

"Jack'd be there to take care of you."

"He stays in the Hub overnight?"

"He lives there," Ianto replied, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. But then, thinking upon it, Jack couldn't always have done so. Ianto wondered what he had done back when he was a freelancer – probably just flirted his way into a bed for the night. Probably, for a long while, it had been Greg's bed.

"All the more reason for you not to trust me there," said Greg. Ianto felt the familiar tinge of jealousy, but mostly he accepted Greg as a sort of healthy competition. Besides, they weren't rivals. Greg had explained that in the medical bay, though whether or not he was a man of his word, he had yet to prove.

And it wasn't that Ianto didn't trust Jack – oh, all right, it was probably that he didn't trust Jack. Not in the sort of way that led him to believe that Jack would purposely cheat on him, but more in the way that Ianto didn't trust Jack to realise where the boundary line was.

"Not that I would," Greg hurriedly explained. "Not because I don't want to, because feelings don't change overnight." Ianto nodded. At least the boy was honest. "But…well, because he'd probably only do it to make you jealous. So I'm fine with a bed and breakfast for the night, until I can sort somewhere else out." He noticed Ianto's instinctual grimace, and quickly added, "Or a cheap hotel, if the B&Bs around here are as grotty as they used to be."

"Or you could stay at my place." Ianto spoke the words before he even registered having thought them. But he didn't take them back. "Place is a bit of a mess, and you'll have to sleep on the sofa-bed, but it'll save on a hotel."

He and Greg stared at each others' shoes for a moment, unable to quite look each other in the eye. It was Greg that broke the silence. "Might knock Jack for six," he said with a coy smile.

Once more, it took a few seconds for the implication to register with Ianto. "I highly doubt that Jack would assume we were sleeping together."

"He might, if I walked into the Hub tomorrow wearing one of your shirts."

Ianto stared Greg straight in the eye. "You're suggesting I give Jack the impression that I'm cheating on him. Deliberately."

"Like he's never tried to make you jealous."

Ianto wasn't sure whether or not he could argue with that, because he wasn't sure if Jack honestly tried, or if he just…did. He glanced away. When he looked back, Greg was still fixing him with that oddly innocent gaze that Ianto was now sure was entirely deceptive. "Let me sleep on it," he said finally. It was cold, and he was hungry and tired, and he knew that was probably the only reason he was even entertaining the idea. As ever, things might be clearer in the morning.

At the very least, his reply satisfied Greg. "Fair enough. Sofa it is, unless you decide to tell Jack it was the bed."

Ianto nodded, trying to look surer than he felt. "Yeah. This-this way." He gestured away from the bright lights of the big city, not noticing the genuine smile on Greg's face as he led the young man away from the unfamiliar city that claimed to be his Cardiff.

* * *

**Please review! To quote my excellent beta, ****REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = QUICKER UPDATES. **

**You may not think this applies, because I update daily anyway. But you could have TWO updates per day. THREE, maybe. Or possibly daily updates from Mork or CC. Imagine that! And REVIEW! **


	39. CLOSING TIME Chapter 4

**Storms-Are-My-Nature deserves a MASSIVE hug for this one. She corrected my grammar, pointed out that the plot was lagging (it still is a little, but you might be glad of the lull, because Chapter 6 hits the ground running) and made comments about dialogue - in other words, she was utterly FANTASTIC and if you enjoy this chapter, it's probably more due to her than me. **

**Okay. It's my friend's birthday tomorrow (Aligning-Planets on FFN), so I'll be out all day and night partying. In other words, there won't be an update tomorrow. Sorry about that. Back to normal the day after, though. **

**I'm guessing that CC won't be updating today, as she hasn't sent me anything to beta. But The Scarf Warriors definitely is, though it might be a little later on.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Ianto's flat was only a few minutes away from the Plass, so, with the cool air of the evening, they decided to walk. To begin with, Ianto pointed out various landmarks and talked a little history, but he soon stopped, sensing that it was all going completely over Greg's head. Again, it was probably something that the new morning might fix.

Greg insisted on taking the stairs up to Ianto's apartment, rather than the elevator, as he clearly wasn't exhausted enough that he would trust a metal box driven by technology. Apparently the invisible lift didn't count, as it was alien – though Ianto suspected that a lot of the differentiation actually came from the fact that the Hub's lift wasn't boxed in; Greg might have been claustrophobic. It seemed more dislike than fear, though.

A small smirk escaped Greg as Ianto opened the door to the apartment and showed him in. Ianto caught it. "What?"

"Nothing. I just… Well, as the archivist, you're the one who keeps the Hub in order, right?"

Ianto smiled. "Too busy cleaning over there to clean over here," he explained. That was a bit of an understatement. Clothes were strewn across the floor, though Ianto did make an effort to nudge them with his foot until they formed what might vaguely be called a laundry pile. And there were still boxes of stuff all over the room, like he hadn't yet unpacked, despite living here for three years. A collection of DVDs and books littered the shelves on the far side of the room, some of them neatly arranged in alphabetical order, the rest left in piles to sort out later. "Sorry it's such a mess."

"It's not a mess. It's…" Greg searched for the right phrase, "...lived in." Except that it didn't much look like it.

"Coffee?"

"Nah, not this late. I'd never get to sleep." The kitchen, Greg noticed as he trailed Ianto, was pristine if nothing else. There was a solitary plate waiting to be washed, but other than that the surfaces were clear.

"Neither will I, until the caffeine monster is sated." Ianto shrugged. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't." He nosed through the cupboards, most of which were empty or full of out of date packets. "Hot chocolate, then?"

Greg seemed to guess that a hot drink was Ianto's way of apologising, so he gratefully accepted. Once they were both holding steaming mugs, Greg followed Ianto's lead onto the sofa. He nodded towards the boxes. "Moving out soon?"

"Moving in," Ianto corrected. "Three years and counting, but I'll manage it someday."

"Torchwood can't take up that much of your time, surely?" Greg looked around. "I mean, okay, I'm guessing you moved here for the job, but even so, you must have had some sort of settling time."

Ianto took a sip of coffee. Yes, he did get the rare day off, but mostly they were spent with Jack, or visiting his family. And while he had been given enough time at the start of the job, he had been a bit preoccupied with Lisa – and he didn't feel up to explaining that to Greg. It was all in the past. That was another reason the stuff stayed in boxes – some of it was Lisa's. Clothing, a few photos, little knick-knacks, but things that he wanted to stay buried where they were. "I suppose I'm just not here often enough to bother with it. I unpacked the essentials and just never got around to the rest."

"Spending too much time at the Hub," Greg said with a smile. The implication was clear that time.

"Maybe." Ianto hugged the mug in his hands. He paused for a second before adding, "Jack hasn't ever been here."

"Never?"

Ianto shook his head. "He asks, sometimes." He'd asked the once, anyway. "But I can't bring myself to let him in. It's like this flat is my life before Torchwood, boxed up and compartmentalised, and bringing Jack in would just… I don't know." He took another sip. "It's stupid, really. I just need something that's free of all of that, for when Torchwood gets too much."

"Not stupid. A little bit desperate, maybe." Greg shot him a toothy grin over the top of his own mug.

"Thanks."

"No, but really. I can see what you mean, about needing somewhere to just be, outside of Torchwood. Doesn't take long for everything to go to hell when you're working for Torchwood, does it? Sometimes you just want to run from it all. Wonder how long it'll be before it all falls apart this time." He sighed. "I guess Jack doesn't need an escape, but I think the rest of us do."

"I think the rest of us are Jack's escape." Ianto looked away. "Sometimes. I mean, I think we have our own merits, all of us – and there must be a _bloody_ long line of us." Greg laughed. "But I think the thing we all have in common is that we make him feel human, and remind him what it is that he's protecting. At least, that's what it is with me and Gwen, and I think probably with you as well."

Greg peered at him curiously. "Gwen? His second-in-command? God, he's not having two of you at the same time, is he?"

"No. Well, actually, sometimes I wonder. But no, Gwen's happily married."

"Never stopped Jack before."

"It's different this time. I don't know, I can't explain it. But I think he doesn't want to split her and Rhys up because they can have a happy ending together."

"Whereas nobody ever gets a happy ending with Jack," Greg finished quietly. He held the half-empty mug in one hand, absent-mindedly stroking it with the other.

"Gwen's great, though. She understands what Jack's like." A slight blush crept up Ianto's cheeks. "And she's stood up to him on more than one occasion."

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you?"

"Twice. Once was more following the others' lead, though. The other got Jack's gun rammed up against my forehead." He swallowed.

"I'm guessing from your expression that you mean gun in the literal—"

Ianto nodded. "Yeah. But that was…I was in the wrong. For the right reasons, but I was still in the wrong. Took me weeks to accept it, though. I hated Jack for ages."

Greg raised his eyebrows in surprise. "And look at you now." He smiled.

Ianto didn't. "I still hated him, the first time. Did it to catch him off-guard. Ended up catching myself." He paused. "Didn't stop me trying again the second time, either. But it wasn't that simple."

"Hell," Greg said, "nothing's ever simple around Jack."

"And the longer it goes on, the more complicated it gets." Ianto breathed into his mug.

Greg watched him for a while. "Have you and Jack been together long?"

"Define 'together'." Ianto gave him a wry smile. "About two years, at a stretch."

"Not bad going."

"What about you? How long were you and Jack..?"

"Three years." There was no pride or boastfulness behind Greg's answer. "But that was on and off. I mean, he only helped with Torchwood every so often, so we saw each other maybe once a fortnight." He noticed Ianto's curious expression. "Yeah, he had others in between. I wasn't so special that I could stop him going to a new bed each night. You are, though."

Ianto shook his head. "It's different. Different time, different attitude."

"Same Jack," Greg interrupted.

"Not special enough to keep him from running off for eight weeks without a word," Ianto said. His words weren't bitter, but there was an underlying remorse.

"Eight weeks?" Greg looked shocked. "God, with the same person?"

"His Doctor."

Evidently the Doctor had been the subject of conversation for quite some time, as Greg grimaced at his mention. "Ah."

"He came back, though. Which is something, I suppose."

Greg nodded, placing his empty mug on top of a nearby box. Ianto picked it up and stood from the sofa, taking both mugs back to the kitchen to rest beside the lonely plate.

When he returned, he showed Greg how to pull the sofa out into another bed, though they had to shuffle around a couple of boxes to make space in the room. And Ianto managed to dig out a spare toothbrush (the bathroom was almost clinically clean, like the kitchen, so he didn't apologise for that one) and even pulled a small clock from somewhere for Greg to use, as there weren't any on the walls.

It was only as Greg settled down on the sofa for the night that Ianto reappeared briefly from his own bedroom and threw a bundled-up shirt at him. "Here. You'll need clean clothes for tomorrow."

Greg smiled as he slept.

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**Remember!** **REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = QUICKER UPDATES.**


	40. CLOSING TIME Chapter 5

**OK. Today, I completely intended to do homework and organise myself. Thing is that first, I had a couple of Torchwood books to return to a friend (I got them ALL in the post yesterday, have now read Almost Perfect and am mostly through Pack Animals). And she mentioned that she was headed off to Camden with a cosplay friend. So I tagged along. We ended up going to Troc instead of Camden, but it was all cool. Except that the woman in the art shop wouldn't let me buy Letraset markers because I was under 18 (WTF?). Eurgh. **

**Once again, this chapter has been beta'd by the wonderful Storms-Are-My-Nature! Love to her! **

**Fourteenfandom, the LJ community, has been a little quiet, so I'm guessing most of you haven't checked it out. So I'll ask the question here: Who should Greg's love interest be? Remember that this is Torchwood, so there can be more than one, and it can be one-sided. **

**I have plans to introduce an OC soon, if that's all right with you guys? Well. I say soon, but it won't be for at least two episodes. Consider this advance warning - though if you guys are against it, I can work around that. **

**Enjoy, and PLEASE review! I got 15 reviews for one chapter a couple of days ago, and I'd really like to break that record. =D**

* * *

There was no way for Jack to know it, but when Greg entered the Hub the following morning, he was actually wearing a pair of Ianto's boxers as well as the shirt – because Ianto had been right, he did need clean clothes, and he obviously didn't have his own. And he was sure that Ianto had been telling himself that in an effort to justify going with the plan, but Greg found that he didn't care. Because he saw Jack's double-take as the two of them entered the Hub together, and as he saw what they were wearing.

Ianto was in a wine-red shirt, pinned neatly to his chest by a dark grey waistcoat. Jack had seen the combination before. Greg, on the other hand, wore the shirt untucked over a pair of jeans that Jack was sure also didn't belong to him, but that he'd never caught Ianto wearing. And because Greg's frame was slimmer than Ianto's, they hung loosely on him, in a manner that almost made Jack want to go up and pull the fabric taut to show off the body that he knew was underneath.

Overall, Jack's face gave the impression that he wasn't sure if he wanted Greg, or just wanted to know why Greg was wearing Ianto's clothes. He looked both turned on (not much of an accomplishment when it came to Jack) and completely baffled. Which was much the effect that the two had been aiming for.

"Coffee?" Ianto's voice startled Jack back to reality from wherever his mind might have been wandering at that time. He gave Ianto a firm nod and a smile.

"You boys have fun last night?" The smile broke into a grin.

Greg matched it. "Yeah. It was a bit…much of a muchness, to tell you the truth. I mean, don't get me wrong, this Cardiff's great, but…" He paused and allowed himself a sly glance across at Ianto. "It was a bit overwhelming."

Jack saw the glance. "Glad to hear it." He didn't entirely sound it. "The rest of the team should be here soon. I'm still trying to figure out whether to introduce you as their senior or not."

"I wouldn't," said Greg. "I mean, all right, I've been here longer, but it's all new to me now."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Still," he said, looking up at Ianto, "we might have to promote Greg in time for the next UNIT meeting."

Ianto felt himself flush, though whether it was from embarrassment or jealousy, he couldn't tell. The UNIT meetings were dreaded occasions, but it was largely these that had spawned the growing collection of post-it notes in Jack's drawer. Greg, of course, wouldn't get the reference, but to Ianto the unspoken message was all too clear: _D'you_ _want to tell me what's going on here?_ The UNIT meetings were very much Ianto and Jack's territory (which was fine by Gwen, because other than the red caps, they were dull as anything), and Jack was asking if Greg had been stepping onto it. If Ianto had let him into territory that had previously been theirs.

"You're the boss," Ianto said, neither smiling nor frowning. _You tell me, Jack. _

Greg had rightly recognised that Jack would willingly take a third wheel in their relationship (fourth if you counted Gwen, but Ianto didn't really), so long as it was him that called the shots about it. Because Jack was used to 21st century inhibitions, and he worked around them, almost abused them in a fashion. He expected Ianto to be loyal even though he expected Ianto to let him flirt with anything else that moved. And, much to Greg's annoyance, it didn't seem as though Ianto had ever questioned this arrangement.

But he could tell that Jack cared about Ianto, if maybe not so much as Ianto cared about Jack. And he had made it his personal mission to make sure that Jack let Ianto know. And if that involved a little deception, flirting and leaving Jack feeling left out, then he could live with that.

Jack regarded Ianto for a second. "I've just about finished those reports, by the way. Need your signature, though." That was a complete lie, and both of them recognised it – Jack was the only member of Torchwood that UNIT ever bothered with, which meant that this was just an excuse to get Ianto up to his office later. Either to talk, or—

"Morning, boys." Anna's voice rang into the Hub as loudly as usual, so they heard her long before they saw her enter.

Jack watched as she slipped through the cog door. "Anna, good news. You're getting a promotion."

She frowned up at him. "I've only been working here for two weeks. Half a year if we're counting the reconstruction. Promotion to what, exactly? If this is just a con to get me to go to the UNIT meetings instead of you, I don't think Ianto'll be best pleased."

Ianto walked across to lean on the balcony above her, beside Jack. "It's not," he assured her. "Come on up."

It was only as she arrived on the platform level to them that she realised there was another man standing with them. She didn't wait for introductions, instead taking the initiative and holding out a hand. "Anna Johnson."

"Greg Bishop." He took it, shaking firmly, registering with some surprise that her grip was stronger than his.

"Greg's our new medic." Jack grinned at Anna.

She tried her best to smile, managed for about a second before it collapsed. "New recruit?" She grimaced at Jack.

"Nope." Jack's grin widened. "Old. Real old. 1940s."

Anna frowned, though she seemed to think it wiser not to question this. "So what am I now, then?"

"Weapons officer sound good?" He noted her approving smile with some satisfaction. And then caught sight of Ianto's expression. "Just don't go psycho on us, we had enough of that from the last one." His grin was wearing a little.

Anna then stepped forward to scrutinise Greg. He was near enough her height – bit short for a bloke, especially compared to Jack and Ianto, but any taller and he'd have looked gangly. He was too slim for the denim that he was wearing, she noticed. "I hope you don't wear your shirt loose when operating, doctor." She smirked.

Greg merely smiled in return. "Actually, I wear scrubs. Is what you're wearing official dress code?" There was enough sarcasm in his voice for it to be evident, but not enough for it to be questioned.

Another cheeky one. "It was going to be, but the others just can't wear leather well." Behind her, Jack pulled a face, and Ianto fought to keep his own straight. Anna was too fixated on Greg to notice anything. "I could see you in a leather jacket, though."

"We all have dreams."

Anna decided she would definitely get on well with the young lad. "You look good for a seventy-year-old," she commented.

"Yeah, Jack taught me the trick of not ageing."

"It's called Botox," Jack said, smirking. He turned to Ianto. "D'you want to take Greg shopping? Figure he could do with some shirts of his own." So he had noticed. "And I'll have the reports ready for when you get back, so don't take all day." _Sort out whatever you need to, because by the time you get back you'd better be ready to explain it._ "Rift monitor doesn't predict much activity over the next couple of days, but you can never be too careful. Besides, I need your help drilling some sense into Andy."

"Do I not get to meet the other members of the team?" Greg asked, his face the picture of innocence.

"Not until you're wearing your own shirt. Go on, get lost, both of you. Greg, try not to get too overwhelmed this time." His grin had returned, though it didn't carry all of its usual warmth.

Greg was about to slip his hand to Ianto (shoulder, back, bum – hadn't quite decided), but thought better of it – Jack had already got the message, and there was no point in being overly obvious. From what he'd seen, Ianto wasn't the sort to get touchy-feely, or let others get so with him, so Jack might guess it to be a ruse. Instead, he contented himself with walking comfortably close, letting his leg brush against Ianto's briefly. He almost regretted not being able to turn and see Jack's reaction.

"Ianto!" Jack called, just as they were about to step through the cog door. "One more thing."

Ianto cocked his head questioningly.

"No suits. If he can't wear them as well as you, he shouldn't try."

Ianto smiled, though he was thrown off a bit. Jack hadn't complimented him in a while, particularly not openly comparing him to someone else (let alone a past lover, which Ianto was fairly certain was unprecedented). Maybe there was something in Greg's plan after all.

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**Remember!** **REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = QUICKER UPDATES.**


	41. CLOSING TIME Chapter 6

**You have my wonderful beta, Storms-Are-My-Nature, to thank for the extra length in this chapter. Unfortunately, the added length was to the middle, so it takes a while to get to the punchline (as it were). Here's hoping you'll think it's worth it anyway. I haven't actually finished the next chapter, so I have to go and get writing as soon as this is up. Which serves me right for sitting on my lazy ass for the past couple of days rather than staying ahead of the game. **

**On the bright side, I had a wonderful lucid dream last night about this episode, so I have a wonderful idea for a particular scene, and I've had ideas for other scenes in my head for a few weeks now – it's just a matter of pulling the rest of the writing together around that. As ever, I have no idea how this episode ends. **

**I'm so happy that so many of you are reviewing. Reading my emails really does brighten my day, especially comments about how this is the S4 people were hoping for, or how much you're enjoying the series so far. I have no plans to quit any time soon, I assure you. **

**At the moment, you guys appear to be leaning towards Greg/Anna and Greg/Ianto. Apologies to those of you hoping for Greg/Janet, but she is very much dead, and I'm fairly sure I'd have to up the rating for bestiality. Anyway. Enjoy, and please continue to tell me your thoughts regarding my writing/this episode/Greg's romantic interests/whatever else you'd care to talk about!**

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Outside the Hub, Greg turned to him with a grin. "So, Ianto Jones. What does it feel like making Jack jealous?"

Ianto didn't reply, but Greg could see the smile edging at his lips, and nudged him with his elbow. "Careful," Ianto warned, glancing up at the statue with the corner of his eye. "Jack can still see us."

Greg frowned at him. "How?"

"CCTV," said Ianto, before realising Greg would have no idea what he was going on about. "Moving image cameras. It's how we can monitor the area inside and outside the Hub. Keep on top of things."

"So Jack's watching us right now?"

Ianto nodded. "Does it bother you? It freaks some people out, being the constant subject of surveillance."

"No," Greg murmured. "But I am very, very tempted to kiss you."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll have difficulty enough explaining this to Jack as it is, without him having solid evidence." Ianto grimaced.

Greg didn't bother to explain that the temptation had absolutely nothing to do with Jack. "You could just avoid the subject."

"Jack's very good at getting information out of people."

Greg suspected that Ianto wasn't talking of Jack's skills of professional interrogation. In fact, he doubted that there was anything professional about his getting information from Ianto.

"So what sort of clothing are you after?" Ianto asked. Allowing himself a small smile, he added, "Apart from suits."

Greg shrugged, having no idea what sort of clothing was on offer, and in the time it took for Ianto to go into a lengthy explanation of what was available, its uses and its practicalities, they had already walked into the shopping district of Cardiff, so Greg was able to see for himself.

"Anything take your fancy?"

Greg still seemed awed by the glossiness of this new Cardiff. None of the retail outlets seemed familiar to him (he didn't even appear to recognise Woolworths when Ianto mentioned it in passing), and he seemed almost appalled by the fact that, according to Ianto, almost every city would have the same shops.

They entered a shop not far along the Bay – the first clothing store that they came across. Greg wasn't quite able to ignore the mobile phone store that they passed along the way – he considered asking whether the shop had access to alien technology as well, but Ianto didn't seem bothered by it, and he would have felt stupid asking. Even so, it was nothing compared to his reaction to the clothing store. It was a large, high-street chain (Ianto took no particular notice of which one, and the names meant nothing to Greg anyway) with a massive two floors dedicated to various styles of men's clothing. Aside from racks of shirts (enough to clothe a small army, Greg decided), none of it seemed particularly formal. He took an educated guess that this wasn't where Ianto tended to shop. Obviously he'd taken Jack's advice to heart and kept Greg away from suits.

Evidently, men in 21st century Cardiff had a lot to wear other than suits. The narrow walkways of the shop were flanked by racks and racks of various items that Greg stared at in barely-disguised awe. He'd never even seen half of it before in his life, let alone all in one place.

Ianto, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. In his element, almost. He ran his fingers along the hanger rails like a small child might strum along a fence with a stick – carelessly, but with a vague sense of purpose. At a junction between walkways, he paused to examine the cuffs of a navy dress shirt. "What about this?" he suggested.

Greg restrained himself from pulling a face. "It's a bit...dark," he said lamely. Truth be told, it just wasn't his style, but he felt odd saying that when he was no longer sure what exactly his style_ was_. Ianto seemed to pick up on it anyway, moving swiftly further along the rail.

"These are quite nice," Greg commented, fingering the collar of a polo shirt as they passed.

Ianto turned and nodded. "Suits you."

"That's a shame, Jack said no suits." Greg grinned at him.

"Your puns are as bad as his." Ianto sighed, rolling his eyes upward. He looked back and found Greg still holding the white polo shirt. "That the only colour you like it in?"

"They look expensive." His eyes dodged towards the price tag. "I know Jack said the currency's different now, but—"

"Twelve quid is absolutely nothing," Ianto assured him. Besides, Torchwood was paying. "Try the light blue one. Blue's your colour."

Greg shot him a sly grin. "That what you tell Jack, too? He was wearing blue yesterday and today."

"I don't tell him it, as a matter of fact. I think he just sort of knows." Thinking back, Ianto struggled to remember a time when Jack hadn't worn blue. The only instances he was able to recall were when Jack hadn't been wearing much at all.

Greg hesitantly picked up a blue polo shirt at the same time as Ianto pulled an ordinary shirt from a nearby rail. "What about this?"

"Don't think it's my size." Greg eyed the garment warily – it was white, or a very pale grey, with light grey stripes running vertically about an inch or so apart. But he could tell just from looking at it that it would be as baggy on him as Ianto's shirt currently was.

"It's meant to be loose fit," Ianto said. "You wear it open, over a t-shirt, or a polo shirt."

"That's a bit wasteful, isn't it? I mean, all that extra material, and wearing two shirts when you only need one."

Ianto smiled as kindly as he could. "We're a post-war consumerist society. We buy things we don't need in an effort to make ourselves happy."

"That…makes no sense."

"No, and it doesn't really work. But you'll get used to it soon enough." This shopping trip, at least, wasn't as bad as the last one that he'd made with someone stranded in time. Ianto made a mental note to keep Greg away from bananas, just in case.

The shopping trip continued for another hour or two, and by the end of it, Ianto had just about managed to convince Greg that he needed at least a week's worth of clothing. More economical to wash it all at once, he had pointed out, which had swung the argument somewhat. He had also chosen to take Greg back to the Hub via the narrower lanes of shops, in an effort to show him the quieter side of Cardiff. Drayton Lane was populated mostly by smaller shops, though one or two high street brands had sneaked their way in.

As they walked, conversation turned away from shopping. "Seems like Anna's taken a shine to you."

"She's…yeah," Greg said.

Ianto smiled at the younger man's bashfulness. That was a thought. Greg was even younger than he was. "She's old enough to be your mother."

"I was born in 1917, I'm old enough to be her grandfather," Greg retorted, though he kept his voice mild. "Besides, Jack's a few centuries older than you are."

He had a point there. Millennia, actually, but Greg wasn't to know that. "Sorry. I didn't mean to— It's just this must be really confusing for you. New place, new time, new people. When I moved to London, it was all so huge and intimidating that I just clung to the people nearest me. It didn't turn out well. I just don't want you to make the same mistake."

Greg looked at him. "I'm old enough to make my own mistakes, and original enough not to repeat yours."

Ianto smiled at his reply.

As they walked further down the street, it began to open up again, ready to meet the grandness of the Plass once more. "What's all that lot?" Greg asked, pointing up ahead. A large glass-fronted shop with whitewashed walls stood out like a sore thumb against the beautifully painted boutiques. Low-level scaffolding clung to it like ivy.

"Ongoing renovation, I should think. Cardiff's never new enough for them. The second a shop shuts down, they replace it with a more modern one."

"I can't see any workers."

"Probably on an early lunch break," Ianto replied, with a glance to his watch. "It's gone eleven."

Greg nodded along as though this made perfect sense to him, but he was still mesmerised by the shop. A small white door without a handle led off inside, or so he presumed, but the rest of the shop front was all a sort of display case – white walls and floors boxed in by a sheet layer of glass – so that the inside was a complete mystery.

"What d'you reckon it'll be?"

Ianto looked at him in surprise. "Probably some sort of clothes shop, judging by the window display. There'll be mannequins in there when they're finished." Already, he was looking away, disinterested.

"Ianto, did you see that?" Greg's voice was low and uncertain.

"See what?"

"The woman that was in front of us before – wearing a red cardigan." Ianto vaguely recalled seeing someone a few metres in front of them, but couldn't honestly say he had taken any notice of what they'd been wearing. "She just disappeared. I took my eyes off her for a second and she vanished."

"Probably went down a side street," Ianto reasoned. Every few shops or so, there would be a gap between the buildings, just large enough to act as a walkway. "She pretty?"

Greg shook his head, but it might just have been to clear his thoughts. Ianto wasn't sure he'd even heard the question. Greg looked over at the scaffolding once more and rubbed his eyes. He was sure he'd just seen the reflection of the woman in the glass front. He turned away and saw the woman walking behind him. Except she'd been in front before. He shook his head again. She'd probably just gone into one of the shops without him realising, and come back out again once they'd passed. But the only shop anywhere near where he'd lost sight of her was the one undergoing refurbishment. He frowned and turned to Ianto. "Where—"

The question fell silent in his throat. Ianto had also disappeared.

He stood still for a moment, glancing around and making sure that Ianto hadn't just gone into a shop or a side street. Maybe he was hiding as a practical joke. "Not funny," he muttered, just loud enough for anybody nearby to hear. A prickle crept up the back of his neck. He raised his voice a little louder. "Not funny, Ianto. C'mon. We've got to get back to the Hub."

No reply, though a couple of people gave him odd looks as they passed.

Getting a little worried and the tiniest bit freaked out, Greg called out again. "Jack'll be waiting."

Still no reply.

Greg began meandering slowly back down the street, checking in the alleyways and glancing through shop windows. No sign. "Fine then, play it your way. I'll see you back at the Hub."

He wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans as he waited a few seconds more, giving Ianto a last opportunity to appear. And then he turned on his heel and headed back in the direction of the Hub.

A camera watched him as he ran.

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**Remember!** **REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = QUICKER UPDATES. And you know you want to find out what happens next after that cliffhanger. **


	42. CLOSING TIME Chapter 7

**Consider yourselves forwarned that this chapter has not been beta'd. **

**For once, this isn't just due to my incompetence and lack of organisation. I wrote this late last night, and I've nearly finished writing the next chapter. It's throwing twists at me that I'm sure will come back to bite me later, but which will hopefully add a little meat to the story. Anyway, I'm not sure why Storms hasn't replied, so I hope she's okay, and if she's ill I hope she gets better soon (and so will you when you get reminded of the state of my scrawls without her). Come back soon, Storms!**

**Most of you seem to be in favour of the same romantic pairings, so I'll be leaning towards them throughout the following chapters. But I'm still listening if you change your mind or think that it isn't working - let me know! **

**Greg is in terrible danger of becoming my favourite character. I beta'd Scarf Warrior's fic earlier, so that'll be up tonight. Neither of us have heard anything from CC, though, so I'm not sure what's happening there, either. **

**Well, even despite of numerous setbacks, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**

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**

Jack was naturally a little surprised to find Greg returning to the Hub alone. His initial instinct said (possibly even hoped) that the two of them had argued, and he expected Ianto to come trailing in a few minutes later. He didn't. He didn't actually get the time to, as within moments, Greg had burst into his office and distracted him from the thought completely.

Jack looked at him expectantly, but Greg found himself unable to put whatever had happened into words. "Ianto's…missing," he managed finally.

"Okay. Sit. Explain." Monosyllabic orders worked wonders under such circumstances, Jack found. Greg managed the sitting part spectacularly, but he wasn't so great at the explaining. Apparently two syllables was too much for him to handle.

"He just sort of…vanished. There was a woman, before, she vanished too. Ianto said she'd probably just gone into a side street, and then I saw her reflection, and then she was behind me. And then I turned and Ianto had vanished as well."

Jack frowned at him, trying to make sense of the young man's almost incoherent ramblings. "Did Ianto reappear behind you?"

Greg shook his head. "I looked around and he was just gone, and there was no way he could have gone into a side street or a shop without me noticing." But then, he didn't appear to have noticed that two other people had appeared in the Hub since he was last there – or perhaps, at that moment in time, he just didn't care. After all, there were other things to worry about.

"He just disappeared into thin air," Jack mused. He pressed his palms against his desk, dismissing the UNIT report that still lay unanswered in front of him, and got to his feet. Greg followed him from the office.

"Listen up, boys and girls," Jack called out from the walkway. Anna practically stood to attention; Andy and Lois merely glanced up. "We've got a code orange, which means," he continued, taking account of their baffled expressions, "that one of our number is missing, presumed taken. We might well have a hostage situation on our hands, but we've heard nothing yet. Lois, stay here and man the decks in case we do. Check the CCTV footage of the area, be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. Andy, get your neat little ass down to the police station and check out any missing persons that seem irregular or noteworthy, particularly those around Cardiff's shopping district. Sniff around, see if anybody knows anything. Greg, Anna, you're both with me, we're gonna be conducting a little search party."

Nods and murmurs acknowledged his requests.

"Right," Jack said, striding down the stairs to meet Anna. "We're investigating the scene of potential kidnap, so we're placing ourselves in danger. Take weapons." He looked at Greg, who was stood beside him with a rather helpless expression on his face. "We haven't had a chance to train you down at the firing range, so Torchwood sidearms will be useless to you." He hesitated before pulling out his Webley. "Remember how to use this?" Greg nodded. "Good. Take care of it. Anna, I'll need a spare."

If Anna thought it strange to be expected to adapt so quickly to her new position, she didn't show it. "One of the modded Colts be okay, Captain?" she asked, voice calm and smooth. At the incline of his head, she held out a hand to her side. Lois took the signal and handed her own sidearm over – she wouldn't be needing it here.

Jack took it and instinctively tried to place it in his holster, though of course it was too big to fit. Rolling his eyes slightly, he managed to slip it through his belt instead. Then, with a swift motion of his hand, Greg and Anna headed out of the Hub, with him following hot on their tail.

The Plass offered nothing unexpected. A few people were trailing through, some tourists stood around taking photographs excitedly, but nothing unexpected. Jack set off at an almost impossible pace, leaving the other two running to keep up.

There was nothing particularly off about the shopping district, either. Greg led them cautiously down Drayton Lane, marking out roughly where he had last seen Ianto and the woman. Jack eyed around the area for any evidence or clues; Greg talked him through what had happened once more, this time gesturing as he did so. Halfway through his overly-detailed explanation – which he was saying far too quickly because Ianto could be anywhere and every second that passed might be another second of God only knew what happening to him – Greg paused, mid-sentence.

Jack looked at him, raised an eyebrow and, still getting no response, waved a hand in front of Greg's face.

Greg blinked suddenly, as though coming out of a trance, but still remained speechless. A small whimper of a sound came from him, but nothing more. Jack followed his pointed finger and turned around to see a couple of young women, around Greg's age, milling around one of the shops in the lane.

He looked back at Greg with a frown. "What?"

Apparently still unable to speak, Greg mimed with his hands, one above the other in a compressing motion.

Jack frowned a little bit more.

Greg lowered his hands until he was gesticulating just to the left of his crotch.

Jack was visibly distracted by this before everything clicked and he chuckled. "Skirts above their knees. Shocking, isn't it?"

"Above their knees? They're above their bloody knickers!" Greg let out, his voice amusingly high-pitched.

Jack laughed even louder, attracting the attention of the two young women. Their glares quickly faded as they caught sight of the captain, and both of them seemed to realise that they didn't mind after all. In fact, one of them surreptitiously hitched her skirt a little higher using her elbow. Greg looked appalled.

"21st century Cardiff." Jack grinned. "You'll learn to love it. I know I have."

"Captain," Anna said, her voice a clear warning.

Jack cleared his throat. "So you're sure it was right outside this shop that Ianto disappeared?"

Greg nodded and Anna looked the building up and down. "Midway through refurbishment. Clothing store. What else do we know?"

"Lois?" Jack tapped at his comm. "What can you find for us about 73 Drayton Lane?"

It was clear that Lois had more experience hacking this sort of information than she did Torchwood's hidden archives – no doubt an effort to hide government slothfulness and failed promises of restoration – as she reeled off information to them in a matter of seconds. "Used to be a men's clothing store. Closed down six months ago, sold to an unlisted company. Tracking them now."

"Good work, Lois. Okay, boys and girls..." Jack turned to Anna and Greg, pulling out his gun with a grin. "Reckon there's anybody home?"

Without waiting for an answer, Jack blew the door open with a well-rehearsed kick.

* * *

Ianto Jones was entirely unsure of where his feet were. He was also unsure where exactly the rest of him was, but he supposed that it would be roughly where his feet were, else he'd be in considerably more pain.

He wasn't exactly comfortable now. Something curved, cold and metallic was digging into his back at an odd angle, contorting his spine. It seemed like he was leaning against it, but he wasn't sure if he was lying down or standing up, or why exactly he was leaning against something uncomfortable anyway.

Put simply, he wasn't sure of much at all at that moment.

He tried to not lean against the metal, but pushing away from it didn't seem to do much good at all. Not visibly, anyway – but that meant nothing in such a dark room. He could see an inkling of natural light to his left, reflected from the metal that was (presumably) holding him in place. That, at least, meant that he wasn't buried hundreds of miles underground. Which was something to be thankful for, he supposed.

Even so, he would have found it much more reassuring to be able to see his own feet – and the rest of him, in fact – intact around him. But there was nothing. Only darkness.

After years of working for Torchwood, Ianto knew better than to be afraid of the dark. By and large, this was because mostly it wasn't the dark itself that inspired fear, but what hid inside it. All over Cardiff, parents were telling their children that there weren't any monsters in the cupboard, believing that boggarts and suchlike existed only in Harry Potter. If half these supposedly mythical creatures were in fact mythical, Ianto suspected that he wouldn't have a job. But he was informed enough to know that nothing was lying in wait in his immediate vicinity. He listened for scuffling or scraping sounds and heard nothing, not even footsteps. Which was a shame, because that also meant that nobody from Torchwood was here yet, either. He wondered where 'here' was, other than simply someplace dark.

A light flickered nowhere in the room.

Suddenly, he could see everything. The room was quite large, perhaps the size of the Hub boardroom. The walls were plain and whitewashed. Ianto had the sudden feeling that he knew where he might be.

Twisting his head slightly, he saw that he was fixed into a massive metal structure that extended far behind him. He couldn't manage to turn far enough to see what he was propped up against, but he made an educated guess that it was similar to the ones on either side of him, curving in what he supposed must be a ring of the metal devices, all connected to a central column that he could just about make out by straining his neck backward. It was as he arched over, trying to make out the surroundings, that he realised that there were still no lights in the room. No windows, either. Suddenly, nothing added up.

This was more than a little strange. Usually, people got freaked out by temporarily fearing that they were blind. To get freaked out by being able to see when you weren't ordinarily blind was a new one all together – although it probably didn't rate anywhere near the Torchwood top ten (of which Jack had caused nine).

As he pondered how exactly he was able to see, Ianto became distracted by another thought that wasn't his. In fact, quite a few that weren't his. Hundreds. Thousands. Millions-billions-too fast to even count. What was more, he was sure they'd been there before. Not always, but for a short while, at least – they hadn't suddenly invaded. It was as if he had just noticed that they were there. Like just noticing that the room was lit.

Except that the room wasn't lit, and he knew that. There weren't any lights in the room to turn on, no windows to open. Just a large room, empty except for the structure that restrained him. He realised slowly that it wasn't, in fact, that the room had suddenly become bright, nor that he had miraculously acquired night-vision. It was just that he knew the room.

This was, of course, insane, but working for Torchwood meant that there was often insanity to spare. He knew the room because it was in the background buzz of his mind, though he wasn't entirely sure where that ended anymore. It was as though he were a computer just connected to the internet – a sudden influx of knowledge without knowing quite where it came from. Most of it was background noise (a good thing, or he was fairly certain he would have gone insane), but occasionally a thought would leap out at him with a sharp jolt.

For instance, when he had suddenly known exactly what the room looked like, despite also knowing that it was in pitch darkness at the time. Strange, slightly surreal – like most of his life with Torchwood. Not altogether unpleasant.

He felt something – a hand, he was sure – caress his forehead for a very brief second and, in questioning it, was overloaded with responsive thoughts. In the moment before he blacked out, he could have sworn he saw Jack come through the doorway.

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**Remember!** **REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = QUICKER UPDATES. **


	43. CLOSING TIME Chapter 8

**I owe a lot of thanks to my wonderful beta, Storms, who I also wish gets better soon. She always manages to pick up on things that would have completely passed me by. And I also want to shout-out to CC, who appears to have gone AWOL. **

**This chapter took a very long time to write, but I think it was worth it. **

**It's been eight chapters, so I'd like some feedback on how you think this episode is going - whether the plot is entertaining enough, etc., and also what you think of Greg! Storms and I have both fallen for him as a character, but if there's anything about him that bothers you, I'll see what I can do. **

**Not much of a cliffhanger this time, but if I waited for one then this chapter would be about twice the length, and it's pretty long as it is. **

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The room was empty, dusty white and bare except for a stepladder, with clear plastic sheeting strewn on the floor. In short, there was absolutely nothing unusual about it, and Jack couldn't help but shoot Greg an irritated glance. He noted Anna doing the same.

"Doesn't look like there's much to see here, does it?" Greg asked quietly. A tremor of fear still resounded in his voice.

"No," Jack said simply. "But it's the best lead we've got, so keep your eyes open."

The back wall was half-hidden under plastic sheeting, but Jack suspected there might be a door there. He doubted that the room that they were in was the extent of the shop – it was taller on the outside; there must at least have been a second floor. Besides, what with health and safety regulations, there had to be another exit somewhere.

Sure enough, pulling down the sheeting and letting it be trampled underfoot, Jack opened up the exposed door and made his way into the adjoining room. The grip of the Colt felt unfamiliar in his palms.

Greg was straight on his heels – but while Jack surveyed the room for a cautious second, Greg saw only Ianto slumped on the floor, and rushed over to help. Or tried to.

Jack held him back with a strong arm. "Wait a second."

Somewhat resentfully, Greg obeyed the order, letting Jack approach first. The Captain's movements were hesitant. He crouched down beside Ianto and carefully checked for any signs of impending danger before allowing himself to reach out and inspect any injuries. There was a shallow cut under his left eye and the cheek looked like it might bruise. Aside from the fact that he had apparently been knocked unconscious, there didn't appear to be any significant damage – no broken bones or anything too serious. Possible concussion.

Greg knelt down on Ianto's other side, hardly even realising that he had taken hold of his wrist and was hugging it in his hands. The tightness of his grip caused Ianto to groan.

Greg smiled; Jack broke into a full-on grin. "Glad to have you back in the realms of the living. What happened?"

"Don't know," Ianto muttered. "Jumped...from behind."

Jack frowned. The injuries were from the front. "Okay," he said, ignoring his own logic. "So what happened to your attacker?"

"Didn't..." Ianto lifted a hand to his forehead with another groan.

"Jack, he needs medical attention," Greg said. "We ought to get him back to the Hub."

Jack paused for a moment before nodding. "Can you help me lift him?"

"I'm fine. Just...headache." Ianto stumbled to his feet.

"Ianto, look at me for a second." Greg moved his hand from one side to the other. Ianto's eyes lagged slightly as they followed it. "Pupils are dilated slightly, but the same size. My guess is you weren't out for more than five minutes. Confusion, difficulty focusing... Lack of balance," he added, as Jack swiftly caught Ianto as he fell back. "Mild concussion. Is your vision blurred at all?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, I just..."

"Wow, okay, he's having real difficulty concentrating on anything," Greg said, turning to Jack. "He needs rest and to be monitored overnight, then we'll see how he goes. Don't want this turning into anything severe."

"Greg."

The young medic hadn't quite met Jack's eye during his diagnosis. Jack had noticed. Greg knew he had. "It's nothing."

"Greg."

"No, really." Greg looked up at him sharply. "There's no visible damage to his head at all. Bruising on his face, sure. But as far as I can tell, nothing actually hit him. He didn't fall."

Ianto tried to stare at him and failed. Jack, on the other hand, succeeded. "So he has concussion how, exactly?"

"You know how," Greg answered quietly.

It took Jack a second. "Right," he laughed. "And where exactly was the explosion?"

"I don't know, Jack. But that's the most common cause of MTBI and –"

"Not any more. Car crashes these days. Cardiff's not at war anymore, Greg. People would notice an explosion."

"Not if he was moved. He was knocked unconscious – they'd have had time to move him."

"Right, so why would they move him where we'd find him, and who are 'they' exactly?" Jack was practically barking by this point.

Greg didn't bother to raise his voice. "I don't know. I'm just giving my diagnosis. I'm a medic, Jack, not a detective." He turned away, one hand firmly gripping his hip. "Either way, he needs to be monitored."

"_He_ is still right here," Ianto murmured lightly.

Jack smiled and flicked a strand of hair from Ianto's eye. "Thought you'd fallen asleep in my arms."

Greg looked between them. "Look, it's easier if you keep him at the Hub. Close to medical supplies, and I don't feel right looking after a stranger in his own house." He didn't feel that Ianto was a stranger, but they'd only known each other a day, and it was easier to explain that way. Rather than, _Sorry, Jack, but I don't trust myself alone with your lover when he's not thinking straight._

Jack seemed to find something suspicious about Greg's words, as he narrowed his eyes at the medic. Greg was already looking away by this point, however, so the effect was lost. Instead, Jack decided to let it drop, and, helped by Greg, half-dragged Ianto from the room.

Anna was still waiting in the previous room, gun cocked and on full alert – Jack wondered if she ever stopped. Still, it was good to have someone to rely on, someone that wouldn't drop their guard. Torchwood needed a person like that. Some years ago, he had thought he was that person, but these days it was becoming increasingly clear that, even despite the cold-heartedness that he had acquired over the years, he wasn't. Things got to him. He had weaknesses, same as anyone else.

Watching the rest of the team die right before his eyes less than a decade ago (just a blink in time for him, too short a time to even begin to forget) had taught him that. Being reduced to just three members, watching yet more of them die under his command, had just hammered another nail in the coffin. Torchwood needed to stay strong in the face of overwhelming threats, and he couldn't do that. Not anymore.

It was only natural to grow attached when working so closely with a small group of people whose lives literally depended upon each other every day. It had been hard watching them fall, one by one, in the line of duty. But never – and there were very few things that Jack could say he had never done anymore – never had he actually surrendered in an effort to save one of them before.

_"You said you would fight."_

_"Then I take it all back! I take it all back, but NOT HIM!"_

Jack's own desperate voice echoed inside his head. Maybe he and Ianto ought to sit down and have that talk he was always going on about. Maybe that would settle some of his own doubts.

The semi-conscious weight on his shoulder groaned.

On the other hand, now might not be the best time, Jack reasoned.

Greg sighed as the three of them stopped just short of Anna. His breathing was heavy and irregular from the strain – it only just struck Jack how much smaller Greg was than either himself or Ianto, both in terms of stature and build.

"You found him, then," Anna observed, interrupting Jack's train of thought.

Jack nodded. "He's concussed, though. We need to get him back to the Hub for now. He might be able to give us some useful information when he's rested. While he's recovering, we can conduct some background checks. C'mon." He shifted Ianto further along, supporting more of his weight so that Greg wouldn't have to, and nodded towards the shop entrance. "Let's get back to the Hub and see what Lois has for us."

* * *

The figure in the doorway was not Jack. It certainly looked like Jack, right down to the smudge on his collar (Ianto remembered how that had come about all too vividly), but something about it just...wasn't. For starters, he couldn't remember ever seeing Jack wear that sort of expression.

It was amended into a sudden grin that gradually faded into an expression of concern. "You okay?"

That was very definitely Jack's drawl. Ianto swallowed. "Fine."

The figure walked across to him. There was something slightly off about the way he walked, too – Ianto was sure it was more of a stride – but before he'd even processed the thought, there it was, Jack's usual confident step.

"You're not Jack," Ianto suddenly blurted out.

"Never said I was." The figure flashed him another grin.

Ianto frowned and instinctively leaned forward, only to find himself jerked back by the restraints across his arms. He was sure Jack would have mentioned if he had an evil twin. Evidently, this was some sort of shape-shifting alien.

"Very perceptive. More knowledgeable than any of the others." The alien-Jack smirked, but not unkindly. "Your Captain will be of great use to us."

Once more, Ianto struggled to sit up. "Don't you touch him," he spat.

The alien-Jack laid an assuring hand on his shoulder and pushed him gently back down. "I assumed his identity to calm you."

Ianto blinked. He had been wondering about that, but he definitely hadn't asked the question. Oh God. They could– "You're in my mind." Panic swept through him. All the things he knew – security codes, confidential information, passwords – they now knew all of them.

"...No."

"No?"

"Not unless you think about them. We skim the surface." Jack – no, the alien-Jack – leaned towards him. "The clear surface thoughts, and strong emotions. That's all that we can read. Your secrets are safe, Ianto Jones, as long as you keep them safe."

Okay. He could do that. All he had to do was think of an overriding thought, to block out all of the others. That way he wouldn't give them any information about the Hub, or Torchwood, or UNIT, or– Dammit, he had to stop thinking about it! Think of something else. Quickly, think! Oh God, this was like those stupid mind games that they'd played at school, like trying not to breathe manually – as soon as he tried not to think about it, he ended up not being able to do anything _but_ think about it.

Needing a stronger thought, Ianto's mind strayed towards Jack and stopwatches, as it quite often did when allowed to wander.

He heard Jack chuckle. "Interesting."

Ianto suddenly realised what he'd been thinking, and his cheeks tinged pink. "I didn't..."

"No, but you wanted to," Jack replied with a grin. "Wow, and everybody thinks you're inhibited? Those're some pretty uninhibited thoughts you've got there."

Ianto frantically tried to think of something else and failed in the attempt. He blamed this mostly on the fact that Jack's body was resting up against him. He'd have dodged away if he weren't restrained – at least, that's what he told himself.

The shapeshifter chuckled and leaned a little closer. "Does Jack know that you think things like that?"

* * *

**Remember, ****REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = BETTER WRITING. I'd love to hit 500 reviews by the 50th chapter, unlikely though it is. Please? **


	44. CLOSING TIME Chapter 9

**Really sorry for not updating yesterday. I was feeling a bit off, which only got worse today (I blame the Chinese takeout from yesterday). I'm still feeling weird, but I'll try my best to get another chapter done for tomorrow. My wonderful beta Storms is also still feeling ill. Hopefully we both get better soon. Thanks to Scarf Warriors for offering beta help with this. **

**The scenes in this chapter ended up a lot longer than I thought they would, which is why there's only one setting. A few of you seem confused as to why there are two Iantos. One of them is a shapeshifting alien. I hope you can guess which one. Anyway, that'll get explained soon, so don't worry too much about it. **

**This chapter isn't too plotty, but you do get a cracking conversation about Cap'n Jack's sexual exploits (and you finally get to learn about the cat that Ianto mentioned waaaay back in Fourteen, for those who recall – I told you I never let anything drop) as well as a moment between...well, everyone. **

**Because of the way this is going, I need to know what pairings, if any, you guys are in favour of. There's a poll up on my profile, as well as a link to a mock-up cover that I made for Closing Time, so you can finally see what Greg looks like. **

**Comments, please!**

* * *

Ianto woke up some hours later to the sounds of a bustling Hub. He couldn't quite remember actually falling asleep, but he supposed it must have been at some point on the journey back. Snatches of conversation floated into the room, along with a giggle and a nervous chuckle.

"I swear, honestly. His exact words."

"They were not." Jack's voice was slightly more distant than the others', interrupted by his footsteps as he strode along the walkway.

Ianto got to his feet and took a good look around him – the room was unfamiliar, but then, it was bound to be. Ianto Jones, for all his organisation and regimentation, let his mind be ruled by emotion. So while he was now completely aware of whom every person in the Hub was, he was a little vague about the details of the layout.

Even so, the room was a mess, and a familiar military coat hung across the back of the chair. Those were two very good reasons to assume that the room belonged to the Captain.

After a quick glance around, he exited the room and came across the other members of Torchwood almost immediately. A young woman was idled against one of the workstations – she was the one giggling. He couldn't recall her name. With any luck, Ianto would think of her before he was expected to know it.

The one who appeared to have caused her to laugh was a young man with an even younger face lit up by a bright smile. Greg - the captain had called him by name back at the shop.

Jack was currently glaring at him, not altogether disapproving. "I'll have you know it was a dog."

Greg looked simultaneously amused and disgusted. "That doesn't make it any better, Jack!"

Jack grinned suddenly. "Speak for yourself. Cats scratch." He made a clawing gesture in the air.

"Oh, of course. Being immortal, you must hate sustaining minor injuries."

"I don't heal unless I die," Jack pointed out. "And getting your face clawed off is hardly what I'd call 'minor'." He grinned. "Whereas the dog was surprisingly subservient."

The young woman turned away, unable to control her giggling. "Oh God."

Greg merely smiled. His eyes wandered from the captain to his office, and settled on the figure in the doorway with some surprise. "Ianto, you shouldn't be up yet. You need rest."

Jack turned and looked at Ianto. The corners of his mouth quirked. "Or he could stick around and distract Lois before she realises just what we were talking about." He shot Greg a warning glance.

Greg's eyes widened. "Oh God, you haven't told them. Shit. Sorry."

"Haven't gotten around to it yet," Jack said with a shrug.

Lois looked between them with a frown and realised that she clearly wasn't wanted or needed in this conversation. The furtive glances between Greg and Jack confused her – he'd been introduced as their new medic, somebody that Jack used to know, but judging by their secrecy he knew Jack a lot better than they had previously let on.

"I'll go and cross-reference the..." She trailed off. None of them were listening to her anyway. She let out a sigh and walked down to the lower floor, hoping to find Andy plonked on the sofa. She might at least get a two-sided conversation out of him.

The three others continued, completely oblivious to her disappearance and her irritation.

"Sorry, what's this?" Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow at Jack.

Jack grinned and mimed a gunshot to his own head. Curious. Ianto had a lot of thoughts about Jack, which took some sifting through – but one of his most interesting was his certainty that the captain would outlive him. Filling in the blanks, it would seem that the captain was possibly immortal, or was at least incredibly resilient, though from what they had gathered of his anatomy, he appeared to be human.

Noticing the momentary incomprehension on Ianto's face, Greg gestured towards him and turned back to Jack. "Please tell me he knows."

"Yes," Jack said abruptly. "He knows, you know, Anna knows, Gwen knows. Andy and Lois don't."

"Who's Gwen?"

Jack blinked. He was so used to everybody knowing Gwen that he'd forgotten that she and Greg hadn't been introduced yet. "She's our missing member, the one that Andy's filling in for. Liaison officer, used to be a policewoman, still works closely with them. She's off on maternity leave."

Ianto's facsimile almost smiled at how much information that team were inadvertently volunteering.

Greg didn't notice; his eyes were still on Jack. "Not yours, I hope," he joked.

Jack grinned. "Anyway. D'you want to check Ianto over again before you go?"

"Go?" Greg looked startled. He glanced down at his wrist, expecting a watch, and was reminded by the bare skin that he had removed his when it had stopped working (very few models were robust enough to survive time travel, none of which had been invented by the 1940s). Even so, he was sure it couldn't be that late.

"Don't look so worried," Jack said. "Torchwood days are as long as they ever were. But just occasionally, I feel kind and let the others leave early."

Greg shook his head. That had never happened in his day – but then, in his day, the boss had had a home to go to. With Jack living here, it made more sense that he could almost babysit the Hub while the others rested. "I'll adjust. Not exactly as though we're behind the grind. The place is well organised, Jack, I'll give you that."

Jack smirked. "That's all Ianto's doing."

At the mention of his name, Ianto looked up and met Jack's gaze. The captain was staring at him quite intently, though he wasn't sure if this was usual or whether he had somehow aroused suspicion. Perhaps he was being too quiet. "Sorry. Bit tired."

"You're still more responsive than earlier," Greg said, sounding cheery. "Doesn't look like there's any lasting damage."

"I'll watch him overnight, just in case." Jack practically leered at Ianto as he spoke.

Greg rolled his eyes. "God, Jack. I'd tell you to slow down if I thought you'd pay any attention. At least be gentle, okay? He really does need some sleep tonight." The tone of his voice made it clear that he knew Jack wouldn't pay any attention to that, either.

Ianto smiled at Greg, at least aware what was being spoken of now. "I'll take care, don't worry."

Greg returned his smile. "You'd better. As your doctor, I'll be having stern words with both of you at the first sign of any strain."

"No strain, gotcha." Jack smirked.

Greg ignored his comment and turned towards the exit of the Hub.

"Oh, tell the others they can leave early as well," Jack called after him.

Greg nodded and continued for a few more steps before pausing suddenly and jogging back towards them. "Almost forgot I still had your heater." He pulled Jack's Webley out and handed it back to the captain.

Jack grinned. "Go on, off with you before I change my mind."

"I very much doubt you ever change your mind about that sort of thing, Jack," Greg muttered, but ran off once again all the same.

It was only as he watched Lois and Andy leave the Hub, continuing their conversation without pause, that Greg realised that Ianto was the only one with a key to his apartment. Bugger.

Resigning himself to sticking around for a few hours, or possibly even sleeping on the sofa that Andy had just vacated, Greg sighed and went in search of Anna. As far as he could see, she wasn't anywhere on the upper levels.

He walked down past the cells to the vaults and still found no sign. Nor was she in the armoury when he finally thought to check there. Assuming that she had overheard, or Jack had intercepted, and that she had already left, Greg headed back to the autopsy bay to grab his jacket.

It was there that he found her, realigning the scalpels. Her back was turned to him, and she appeared oblivious to his presence. He stood in the doorway for a few minutes. When she still failed to realise that he was there, he took a step forwards and leaned against the railing. "You know, it's really rude to touch somebody else's possessions without asking permission," he commented lightly.

Much to his disappointment, though not to his surprise, Anna didn't jump. Instead, she turned and faced him with a mild expression. "Are you usually this possessive?"

"Depends on the object in question. Any particular reason you insist on having those all in a straight line?"

"If I'm in a job where I risk my life on a daily basis, I'd like to know that the medic can find his equipment easily."

"I can find it so long as it's on the tray. Whether or not all the scalpels run parallel is usually the least of my worries, and I can't think why it'd be yours at all."

Anna gave a slight shrug with one shoulder. "Just something to do."

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it right now. Jack says we're all free to leave. Lois has already left with..." He floundered for a second, trying to recall Andy's name. They still hadn't been properly introduced.

"Bobby boy," Anna suggested.

"Bobby boy?"

Anna laughed at his frown. "It's slang for a policeman. A bobby on the beat."

"Oh. They were just coppers in my day." Greg looked slightly sheepish.

"They still use that." The smile on Anna's face was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. She motioned up the stairwell. "Shall we get off, then?"

"Oh, I'm sticking around."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "D'you think that's wise?"

Greg grimaced. "I don't have much choice. I was staying on Ianto's sofa, so until he goes home..."

Anna cut him off with a sharp look. "I have a sofa. Come on. Leave the captain to his handiwork." She smirked.

* * *

**Remember, ****REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = BETTER WRITING. **

******I'd love to hit 500 reviews by the 50th chapter, unlikely though it is. I know we can at least hit 400. Go on, leave a review! Please?**


	45. CLOSING TIME Chapter 10

**Because I finished this so late (due to work), my betas are still working on this. I'll update later with the beta'd version. **

**There are Janto moments here, but it's not the actual Jack and Ianto. Hopefully this chapter makes it a little clearer where I'm going with this, though if you have suggestions, I'm open to them. **

**Seems like you guys are after Jack/Ianto, Greg/Anna and Andy/Lois - is this an effort to pair off the whole team? xD **

**Just a little note - because of the timey-wimeyness, I'll be skipping the episode 'Something in the Water' (because I haven't read the book and don't want to make it too similar) and we'll be going straight to One Good Reason, which should be...interesting. **

**For those of you following all three stories in this AU, the order of the episodes is: COE/Fourteen, Reverse, Closing Time, The Thirteenth Adventures, One Good Reason, Return Trip. All of those, except for Return Trip, take place in late 2009 (RT is early 2010), so One Good Reason will have some Christmas cheer. And also a little bit of smiling through tears planned (sorry). **

**Anyway. **

* * *

"So." Jack fixed Ianto with a spectacular grin as they watched the others leave the Hub. "Those UNIT reports...need signatures. Care to step inside my office?" He gestured inside with a suggestive smirk.

"I only just came from there," Ianto pointed out, but nevertheless followed the captain into the room.

"I wish you said that every time."

Clearly, the incomprehension showed on Ianto's face, as Jack held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, fine, no bad puns."

"That was a pun?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Point taken." He strolled over to his desk and pulled a sheet of paper from the top drawer. A wild grin lit up his features once more. "So. Where are we... November seventh...Autopsy bay." He paused, though his grin didn't falter. "Greg won't be happy if he finds out. Still, at least it's not Anna we have to deal with this time around. Don't have to worry so much about cleaning up afterwards."

Ianto shot him a frown. "Jack, it's the autopsy bay. As in, dead bodies."

"Does this mean that you're not up for the morgue tomorrow?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow. He strode out from behind the desk and regarded Ianto. "Need I remind you that you participate in necrophilia on a daily basis?"

Not knowing the correct response to this, Ianto kept silent. Perhaps the captain was already dead?

Jack continued regardless. "I mean, okay, technically, I'm alive, but I've also technically died, which I believe makes it necrophilia. Technically." He might have been talking to himself, as he didn't make eye contact, but he was certainly speaking loudly enough as he approached. He placed a finger provocatively on his lips. "Does that make me a kink?"

As knowledge of blood play, bondage and – was there even a word for that? – filtered through, Ianto smiled. "Is there anything about you that _isn't_ a kink?"

"Shall we find out?" Jack smiled mischievously and pushed Ianto towards the door via a firm hand on the small of his back.

Unaware of the exact location of the autopsy bay, Ianto let himself be led by Jack down two sets of stairs, one metal and one stone, to a circular room coated in white tiles. It looked oddly pristine, filled though it was with a variety of medical machinery that he recognised, not all of it human technology.

"So I was thinking," Jack said as he circled the table in the middle, "we haven't had a chance to test the new x-ray machine yet." He flicked on the monitor nearby and tapped away at the keyboard. The central table brightened in colour slightly, as though a light had just been switched on underneath. Jack pressed a button on the side of the monitor, and a dark rectangular screen transposed itself onto the wall of the bay as though projected. Jack waved his hand over the table; a clear x-ray image showed on the projected screen. "Looks like it's in working order." He grinned and practically vaulted himself onto the table. "Care to join me?"

* * *

Ianto watched the alien-Jack grin wickedly. "What?"

"Lean back into the machine and find out. You're connected to the system." Jack leaned a little closer. "Out of interest, which of you thought up the schedule?"

Ianto knew instantly what he was talking about, and fought to stop his cheeks reddening. "It was...collaborative. Jack's idea to christen the new Hub," he muttered, avoiding eye contact with the alien. He found that he was, rather stupidly, even more ashamed just because he was talking to what looked and almost felt like Jack. "You lied," he said suddenly. "You said you could only skim the surface of my thoughts, but I haven't thought about the schedule since I..."

The alien-Jack shook his head and pushed Ianto back into the seat of the machine. Once more, Ianto was bombarded by unfamiliar thoughts, as well as some that seemed familiar but that he knew didn't belong to him. As his head began to ache, Ianto instinctively tried to focus on one thought – the schedule. He remembered helping Jack write the list, that quiet evening in the Hub just a few days before Greg appeared.

Unbidden, another image broke through, of him and Jack pressed up against each other on the autopsy table. He didn't remember it. And, as far as he recalled, they hadn't gotten to that stage of the schedule yet. It was meant to be today, in fact. As soon as he began to mentally question it, he knew that it wasn't him, which brought up a surplus of disturbing possibilities. He settled on the most obvious. "You replaced me with a clone?" He sat up with a jolt and was startled to find himself gasping for breath.

Jack shook his head. "Actually, he replaced you with a clone. He doesn't even realise it isn't you. So much for love." He shrugged.

Ianto tried to empty his head of thoughts, to focus on nothing. He wasn't sure how much the alien knew, but he was determined not to give it any more ammunition. But then, he was sat up, no longer connected to the machine. So could the alien even still read his thoughts?

"Yes," Jack swiftly replied. "We can read memory through touch. It's how our species communicates. Your way of oral communication is vulgar, but surprisingly common."

Ianto became suddenly aware of the hand on his shoulder. "Then what's the use of the machine?"

Jack smiled. "To make it two-way. So that we can show you our thoughts and our knowledge. Your world is so full of ignorance and deception."

"I'm sorry?" Ianto stared at him. "You've replaced me with a clone – and I'm guessing I'm not the first – and yet you're calling _us_ deceptive? All of the people you've replaced, all their friends and family, everyone who knows them – you're lying to them all."

"I'm not lying to you, Ianto." Jack's voice had an underlying forcefulness that made it seem all the more familiar and believable. For a moment, he forgot that it wasn't the real Jack speaking. "I'm showing you the truth. You know it deep down – he doesn't care for you the same way that you care for him."

"It doesn't matter," Ianto retorted. "He still cares."

"It does matter. To you. Not to him, but then, what does? You can see it in his eyes sometimes, when he's watching you. You're just another human to him. Another notch on his crumbling bedpost. Nothing special."

Ianto silently glowered at him. If that was truth, he refused to believe it.

"Of course you don't want to believe it," Jack continued. "That's part of what makes you so wonderfully human. That's why he likes any of you – because you refuse to believe he's as rotten as he thinks he is. He uses you to ease his conscience."

Ianto smiled grimly. "Again, it doesn't matter."

"Of course not. You love him, you'd do anything for him, you want to make him happy." Ianto couldn't say whether or not he was imagining the mocking tone to Jack's voice. "But just for once, don't you imagine what it would be like to have somebody make you happy instead?"

"I don't want somebody. I want Jack."

"You could have Jack. You could have–" Jack leaned yet closer, until he was whispering into Ianto's ear. "Everything. Everything that he offers you and more. You could have somebody who cares about you on your own merits, rather than those of the human race. Somebody who can grow old with you. Somebody who–" The grip on his shoulder tightened. " –really understands how you're feeling."

Ianto looked up and saw Jack's familiar blue eyes gazing back at him. He admitted to himself that, on more than one occasion, he'd wanted Jack to be different, to be properly human. He wanted somebody to grow old with, as he always had done – but that dream had faded along with those of wanting a normal office job and two-point-four children. He'd grown used to it. It really didn't matter anymore – did it?

He sighed heavily. "I could. But then it wouldn't be Jack."

* * *

Hands pressed desperately against skin as the two men clutched at each other, scrabbling on top of the autopsy table. Jack felt on fire – a description he was more than happy to attest to, having been burnt at the stake during a particularly nasty death. Ianto's lips leaned into his own and refused to break apart. Jack recognised the kiss, though it felt somehow wrong. It took a few more seconds of their tongues entwining for him to realise what it was, and several more to convince himself that it wasn't the best idea to continue.

He broke apart with a shudder of a gasp, reminiscent of coming back to life. "Whoa."

Ianto raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Jack let out a breathless laugh. "Much as that was enjoyable – incredibly so, in fact – Ianto doesn't kiss like that. Kinda wish he did, actually."

"Am I not allowed to try something new?" Ianto murmured, nosing against Jack's neck.

"I mean, don't get me wrong. I can understand perfectly the levels that some lifeforms would go to just to snog me, but...really? Kinda want the real Ianto back. Sorry. Although, if you wanna stick around, I'm great at threesomes."

Ianto ignored him and pressed further against his neck, relishing the physical contact. "You have such wonderful thoughts...such unique memories..."

Jack frowned. "Where have I heard that before?"

* * *

**Remember, ****REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = BETTER WRITING. **

******I'd love to hit 500 reviews by the 50th chapter - thanks so much to all those who have already contributed! **


	46. CLOSING TIME Chapter 11

**Yes, yes, I know. Naughty Orrien didn't update yesterday. Sorry about that - I wasn't feeling great, but it was more lack of organisation than anything. The school year is just properly starting, and I'm learning to juggle my various commitments - but every so often, I get caught out. Like yesterday. So apologies, and I'll try not to let it happen again. **

**Many thanks to Storms and Scarf Warriors for betaing this at such short notice.**

**Well, depending on how quickly we can resolve all our timey-wimey difficulties, One Good Reason may feature not just one Doctor, but TWO. =D **

**Also, I'd like your thoughts on maybe possibly bringing back a character from the dead as a bad guy (I'm not going to mention names because I'll probably get attacked). **

**Also, on a random note - Greg's unofficial theme tune is Doctor by Cute Is What We Aim For. I decided this earlier on the bus. **

**And I'm currently drawing CC's character Ixfin (one of the Eleventh Doctor's companions, apparently), so hopefully we might have our first character art up on the fourteenfandom community soon! Woo!**

* * *

Jack pulled away properly this time, swinging his legs down from the autopsy table and turning away until he was looking over his shoulder at Ianto's facsimile. "So tell me why exactly you're here. I mean, it doesn't exactly seem like a textbook hostile takeover, but you've taken hostages – I'm assuming Ianto isn't the first."

Ianto leaned towards him, letting his fingers trail across the cold table. He didn't meet Jack's eye. "We had nowhere else to go."

"Okay, so your home planet was destroyed?" Jack shrugged as the alien confirmed his guess. A sob story like that didn't draw any tears anymore, not after he'd heard it a thousand times before. "Why Earth?"

"Your planet is full of such loneliness. All your missing people, your deceased loved ones, those who disappeared without a trace – they are so easy to replace. You cry out for them to come back. We grant your wishes." The alien spoke simply, as though unaware of anything wrong with the behaviour of its race.

"Ianto wasn't missing." There was a distinct edge to Jack's voice. "Neither was the woman that Greg mentioned. You've been taking innocent people from the streets. Why?"

"We needed more."

As he watched Ianto's eyelids crumple slightly at the edges, Jack was struck by the sudden thought that this was probably the strangest interrogation that he had ever conducted. Sure, he'd had pre-interrogation sex before (including his own interrogation, when he'd woken up on the morning of his scheduled execution with both of his executioners), not that this had gotten that far. And he'd conducted interrogations in the medical bay before, though admittedly not using an x-ray machine. But he certainly hadn't ever done both at once before, let alone while the suspect being interrogated looked exactly like one of his lovers. A Torchwood first – how rare. How quaint.

Even so... If he had an unknown alien lifeform sitting on a medical scanner, it would be stupid to let the opportunity go to waste.

Jack frowned at him and turned away again, sliding from the table and striding over to the computer monitor that he had used earlier. "In Cardiff alone, thousands of people are reported missing each year. How many of you are there that you need even more than that?" Jack ignored the moral dilemma of whether or not the aliens should be allowed to replace missing persons – after all, he wasn't big on dealing with moral dilemmas at the best of times (he happily delegated that to Gwen, and she was doing a stellar job of it so far), but right now he figured it was easier to take one problem at a time. And, in true Jack fashion, he chose to deal with the bigger problem to begin with.

"Millions."

"So you started replacing people and making them disappear. Integrating yourselves into our society – very clever, although it's cheating a little. Still, I'll commend you on your ingenuity, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for my teammate back." He didn't remove his eyes from the monitor as he spoke.

Ianto smirked. "There's no point checking the biological database, Jack. Your scans won't show anything. Our replicas are perfect."

As much as he hated to admit it, the alien was right. The computer finished its scan and showed a 100% match on Ianto, and negligible matches on a few other people. Certainly no clear matches to any of the alien lifeforms that they had on file.

Nevertheless, Jack showed no signs of being outdone. He merely glanced over before returning his attention to the screen. "Don't call me Jack."

"What should I call you? Sir?" The lilt in his voice was just right; Jack momentarily froze.

"You can call me Captain," he replied through gritted teeth. "That... Can you copy somebody's memories as well as their appearance?" He knew that Ianto wouldn't have taught that to anybody else even if he could – Jack sometimes doubted if the Welshman was even aware that he was doing it.

"No." Ianto smiled a smile that the real Ianto was incapable of – it was far too devious. And not in the usual, stopwatch-related manner, either. "Not as such. We can read their surface memories through touch."

The feeling of déjà vu hit Jack once more, though he couldn't for the life of him place it. Within a split second, it was gone. "So Ianto's still alive?"

"Alive and well... Captain." The lilt was still there, but on a different word, it seemed unfamiliar enough for Jack to be able to ignore it. "But I learned that from your thoughts, not his."

Of course. They'd been in contact for so long that he must have gathered a considerable amount of information from Jack. Not that any of it would be useful or new – except for perhaps a handful of futuristic expletives.

"Interestingly enough, with the number of people that we've replaced, are you entirely sure of the rest of your team, Captain? Are you sure they're all the same people you once knew?"

Jack frowned. He was distinctly aware that this was a deliberate attempt to make him paranoid, but he also knew that it would be a mistake to overlook it. Other members of his team might have been replaced. He remembered Ianto's words from the day before.

_"How do you know that's Greg? It could be a trap, Jack. More than likely, it is."_

Could he remember Greg well enough to say for certain? Probably not. And Andy? Anna? Lois? He hardly knew any of them. For all he knew, one or more had been replaced for an indefinite amount of time. Gwen could probably check Andy, but then, she could just as easily have been replaced. Couldn't check her with Rhys as he might have been replaced. Martha, too. Anybody might have been a target.

Ianto's facsimile smiled. "Can you trust any of them? How will you play, Captain? Are you willing to take the risk?"

Jack stared at him defiantly. "I'm willing to lock you up, to begin with."

"And then what? What about the others? You can't trust them. You know you can't."

"I'll deal with them as they come," Jack growled, grabbing hold of his wrist. "One problem at a time. But for now, you're getting a good night's sleep with a different Jack. Little bit taller, slightly less handsome, slightly more vicious." Jack grinned. He had let Lois name the Weevil that she had saved during the incident with Bilis and, after Ianto had filled her in on their history of names beginning with J, she had had the cheek to name it after the captain.

Jack hadn't minded at all, much to her surprise – but mostly this was because her teasing showed that she was becoming more comfortable within Torchwood. Jack could only hope that Andy would follow her lead – the young policeman was still as jumpy as a rabbit caught in headlights. If he didn't shape up soon, Jack had half a mind to send him back to the force – which would be a shame, if only because he knew too much to avoid Retcon this time around.

Tugging on Ianto's wrist (oh God, it felt so much like Ianto's wrist, so firm and familiar under his fingers), Jack pulled the alien up from the bay and then down the series of corridors to the vaults. He put up worryingly little resistance to being shoved in a cell, his only reaction a slight twitch of his lips as Jack locked the door in place with his wrist strap.

The pair regarded each other calmly for several moments before Jack's gaze broke away and he climbed the stairs back to the main expanse of the Hub. No words were spoken between them, but Jack knew exactly what the alien would be thinking – mulling over what he had just overheard Jack thinking on their way down here. With any luck, Jack's hunch would be right, and he'd be able to figure out which of his team members could still be trusted. If he was wrong, then everything would go to hell, quite quickly.

Typical Torchwood.

* * *

**Remember, ****REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = BETTER WRITING. **

******I don't honestly think we'll make it to 500 reviews by Chapter 50 - but I'm sure we can manage 400 if we really try!**


	47. CLOSING TIME Chapter 12

**The good news is that you get an update tonight. The bad news is that it's quite a short chapter. Still longer than most of the ones in Fourteen, but shorter than they've been for a while. **

**A spectacular thanks to my betas Storms and Mork for correcting so much about this chapter. If Greg is still a bit OOC, I'm going to put it down to hysteria. **

**That's pretty much all I have to say about this chapter. Ooh! Mork and I have been busy working on One Good Reason, and can totally promise you both Twelfth and Thirteenth Doctors, as well as (possibly, fingers crossed) a resolution of sorts to Ianto's potential immortality. We're currently working on this - if I mentioned chronon particles and the Blinovitch Limitation Effect, would you know what I was on about? **

**No, nor would I.**

* * *

It wasn't until just before eight o'clock the following morning that anybody else returned to the Hub. Jack had woken some hours earlier, and had used the time attempting to act slightly less grumpy. Caffeine withdrawal did not make for a happy Jack, yet, at the same time, he didn't dare touch the coffee machine without Ianto's express permission. He'd watched Owen do so once – it had resulted in him receiving decaff for the following week. Needless to say, Jack wasn't particularly keen to find out if the punishment would be the same for him (there were an awful lot of other things that Ianto might decide to deny him).

Instead, he paced around his office, flicking through the scraps of paper that had amounted in various drawers, and even giving a fleeting glance to the UNIT reports before dismissing them yet again. It was only when Greg and Anna arrived that he was finally distracted from his boredom. He met them at the cog door with a grimace. "Sorry, but due to a slight...incident...I'm going to have to ask you both security questions before you can go through to the Hub."

Their two responses were wildly different. Anna simply accepted this turn of events with a curt nod, while Greg frowned and asked what was going on.

"Sorry," Jack replied, "I can't say right now. Okay, Anna, you can go first." He fixed her with a warning gaze. "What's my favourite coffee?"

She smirked. "Your actual favourite, or the one that Ianto thinks is your favourite?"

Jack nodded. "That'll do. Greg?"

The young man was still staring at Jack in confusion. "Hm?"

"I'll need my middle name from you."

Greg's eyes widened. "You've never told me your middle name. Wait, your real middle name, or the one of a certain RAF captain from 1941?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I'll accept either."

Greg's gaze faltered slightly. He honestly didn't have the first clue what Jack's middle name might have been, and he was sure he would have remembered the captain telling him. "Jack 'I've shagged half of Cardiff' Harkness?" he suggested.

Jack grinned and stepped to the side. Greg tentatively walked past. Surely that couldn't have been the actual answer Jack was looking for? A hissing sound issued from behind him, and he turned to find Jack holding a small alien-looking device to Anna's shoulder. She collapsed in a matter of seconds.

Greg blinked for several seconds, unable, it seemed, to either speak or close his mouth.

Jack answered the questions forming in his head before Greg even had a chance to recover. "It's a stun gun, don't worry. Very tempting to shoot, but I don't really want to give them any excuse to hurt their own hostages. Plus, there's a really tiny chance that I'm wrong about all of this and that was actually Anna, in which case I'd feel kinda bad shooting her properly. I have enough paperwork to deal with as it is."

"Sorry, Jack – would you care to explain what exactly is going on?"

"Short story is that Ianto and apparently Anna have been cloned and replaced."

"Cloned?" Greg echoed.

"Well," Jack corrected, "replaced by alien shapeshifters. Cloned is just quicker to say." He noted Greg's expression with some amusement. "Am I to assume that you just joined the ranks of Torchwood's 'I've shagged an alien' club by accident?"

Greg was dutifully silent.

"Anyway, I don't think that Andy or Lois have been taken, because I don't think they've been anywhere near that shop – I think they took Anna while we were in the other room – but I'm not entirely sure. Long story short, or short-ish, you're the only one that I know I can trust. I need you to look after the Hub while I'm gone."

It was all a bit too much for Greg to take in, though he tried his best to process all the information that Jack was rattling off. "Where are you going, exactly?"

"Figured with a coat like this, I ought to do more superhero stuff. I'm going off to rescue Ianto." He grinned as he replied.

"Right...okay. What do I do with Anna?"

"Stick her in the vaults with Ianto. Or with Jack – the Weevil Jack, this is, not me, obviously. Your choice."

"And if the others arrive before you get back?" Greg sounded panicked. "How do I tell if they're clones or aliens or whatever?"

Jack shrugged. "Ask them security questions. You'll think of something." He turned and stepped through the cog door.

Greg chased after him. "Jack! I don't know them well enough to ask security questions!"

"You'll think of something," Jack repeated, calling back over his shoulder.

Greg fell back – he couldn't catch up with Jack's long strides, and it was obvious he wasn't going to get an answer out of the captain anyway. He turned back into the Hub with a sigh.

He attempted to move Anna, only to find that she was too heavy; instead, he settled for restraining her using the cuffs and cable ties that he found in Jack's desk drawer (he really did try not to think about why they were there, but the neon scraps of paper near them left little to the imagination). It was only as he walked past the office again that an unfamiliar ringing erupted from inside.

Greg froze. It took him a few moments to figure out that this wasn't some sort of Rift alarm, but rather an ordinary telephone. A surprisingly familiar one, too, he discovered when he located the source of the noise – brick red, hidden under the general clutter of Jack's desk. He was surprised Ianto hadn't had words.

He tentatively picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

A breezy female voice greeted him. "Hi, could I speak to Jack, please?"

"He's a little bit...busy at the moment."

"Is this saving-the-world busy, or shagging-Ianto busy?"

Greg heard her laugh, and couldn't help doing so himself. "Possibly a bit of both."

"I won't ask."

"I can pass on a message if you like," Greg offered, in a desperate attempt to seem helpful.

"Tell him if he doesn't send those UNIT reports soon, Martha will be having stern words."

"Martha, UNIT reports, stern words. Is that all?"

"Yeah, I think–" Martha paused. "How's Gwen getting along?"

Greg floundered. "Fine, as far as I know. We've never met."

"Oh! God, I'm sorry!" Martha's exclamation was made yet shriller by the receiver. Greg held it from his ear for a second until her voice calmed down. "I thought Jack was going to have her mate Andy as a temp."

"He did. I'm the new medic. Greg Bishop."

He practically heard her smile. "Medic, huh? I'm a doctor myself, actually." A soft sigh escaped her. "Anyway, I suppose I'd better go. Still no chance of talking to Jack or Ianto?"

"That depends on which Ianto you're after."

"...Pardon?"

"Well, if you want the real Ianto, I'm afraid I can't help you. At least, not until Jack's back. But if you'd settle for the clone in the basement, I can arrange that."

Martha made a strange noise in the background – a scuffling choke that might have been a hesitant laugh. "You have a clone of Ianto in your basement?"

"Along with a clone of Anna and another Jack, yes. Although the Jack is actually a Weevil, thank God. I'm not sure I could cope with an actual second Jack."

"You have clones in the basement of the Hub."

"Yes?"

"Right. Give me half an hour. Sounds like you could use some outside help."

Greg smiled. "Actually, we're overstaffed as it is."

"Very funny. I'll get there as soon as I can. Strictly speaking, I ought to be on duty, but I'm sure I can pull a few strings."

"In which case I look forward to meeting you, doctor."

"Indeed, Mr Bishop." He heard a stifled laugh on the other end of the line. "Incidentally, you need to talk to Jack about getting the shared database checked over. It has your date of birth listed as 1917."

The call ended before Greg had a chance to respond.

* * *

**Remember, ****REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTIVE WRITER = BETTER WRITING. **

******I don't honestly think we'll make it to 500 reviews by Chapter 50 - but I'm sure we can manage 400 if we really try!**


	48. CLOSING TIME Chapter 13

**I AM SO SORRY. **

**No, really, I am. See, I've got a bunch of excuses - my beta was away, I was ill, I had art and media coursework due in, etc., but none are really valid. So I'm hoping you'll instead accept that I've been busy trying to convince a particular university (Newport) to let me take Creative Writing with Media Studies, which isn't currently an option (I'd need to take it with English Lit, Drama, History or RE). **

**The reasoning behind this? I've decided to follow my dream and become a (script)writer. I owe you guys a lot of thanks for your constant support while I've been writing this fic, and hopefully one day I can repay you with a Torchwood episode/novel (yeah, I know, dream on, me). In the meantime, I hope you'll forgive my lengthy absence. I'll try to keep up regular updates once more. **

**The fact that Ianto's mother was at Providence Park (a psychiatric hospital) seems to be widely accepted in fandom as fact. Having read all of the books and watched all the episodes, I can't find any canonical evidence for this, but I do like the idea and I think that it explains a lot. So I've decided to reference it. It might have stemmed from the websites or something. If anybody does know where it came from, I'd love to know! For now, I'm just going to credit sam_storyteller, as it was in one of his fics that I first read it. **

**Chapter is early or late depending on how you look at it. **

* * *

Martha was as good as her word – within twenty minutes, she had entered through the tourist office. Greg was rather shocked to discover that the modern Torchwood actually had a viable cover story – during the war, they'd all just hunkered down in a warehouse basement and hoped that nobody nicked the Daimler, in case they realised its strange modifications. It was something he would question later. For now, he had other things to worry about.

Martha was professionally dressed, a white coat worn over a smart black jacket and pencil skirt. Her poise was equally businesslike, and her tone was clipped as she greeted him. "You must be Greg." He watched as her eyes travelled the length of him and back. "I see Jack's still hiring the pretty ones, then." She smiled.

Greg reddened slightly. "Actually, it wasn't Jack that hired me."

"Ah, well. I don't think Ianto's exactly immune to the lure of eye candy, either." She grinned wolfishly and continued before he had a chance to interrupt. "So. Clones in the basement. Want to explain about that?"

Greg faltered. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. Jack knows more than I do."

"And he's out. Okay, maybe we can open comms with him – that should be our first priority. Until we know exactly what we're dealing with, we're gonna have trouble. Have you tried scanning Ianto? The clone, I mean."

"Well, no."

"Oh." Martha shot him a patronising smile as she stepped forwards into the main expanse of the Hub. "Well, we should probably do that, too."

Greg quickened his pace to keep up with her. "I would have done, except, well... I'm..."

"Not familiar with the equipment," Martha finished. Her smile was kinder this time. "Don't worry about it." She climbed the short flight of stairs to the nearest workstation and began entering various security codes until the system flared into life.

Greg just stared at her. "Since when does anyone outside of Torchwood have security clearance?"

Martha laughed and turned from the monitor to face him. "I helped out a bit around here when the last medic was...incapacitated, shall we say."

Greg eyed her warily. "Incapacitated how?"

"Erm, he died. Jack tried to bring him back with some sort of alien glove, and didn't quite manage it. He became a walking, talking corpse."

"Like a zombie?"

"I don't think zombies usually swear that much. To his credit, he actually dealt with it remarkably well, bar a few suicide attempts – pretty stupid for a corpse – and this one time that he let Death himself loose."

Greg watched her as she spoke. Her body language was relaxed as she continued typing, her tone chatty – as though this sort of thing happened all the time. "God, you really are one of us, aren't you?"

"What else would I be, a clone?" She grinned wickedly and poked her tongue out. "Nah, I'm just used to this sort of thing. Jack and I go back – and forwards. We used to travel in time together, along with the Doctor." She quirked her eyebrows as though even she were impressed by this.

"The last medic was a time-traveller, too?"

"No, not Owen– Wait, you're a time-traveller?"

"Sort of." Greg looked down at the floor. "Not by choice."

Martha peered up from the keyboard, offering him a comforting smile. "You far from home?"

"Seventy years. The date of birth on the system is from when I used to work for Torchwood. Twenty-first century now, and everything's changed. Well, except for the sanity of Torchwood. That's about the same."

Martha laughed. "Yeah, well. You spend enough time around Jack, you're bound to go a little mad." She paused to enter another password. She wasn't used to working the system, so gaining access was slow, but they weren't in too much of a hurry. Not life or death, anyway. Or so she hoped. With Torchwood, you could never really tell. "So how did you end up accidentally travelling in time, Mr Bishop? Fall through the Rift?" There was something distinctly playful about her calling him that, as though it wasn't formal in the slightest.

Greg scratched at his neck. "Am I allowed to lie and say yes to that? Because it's a lot more impressive than being kidnapped by an elderly man."

Martha snorted with laughter. "I won't ask." She turned back to the computer. "Right, we're in."

She picked up a small device from the spot where it lay on the desk and inserted it in her ear. She glanced around until she found another one and handed it to Greg. He looked at it cluelessly. With a short sigh, she smiled and helped him clip it around his ear before switching on her own. "Jack, can you hear me?"

Greg winced slightly at the shock of hearing her voice directly in his ear. Even so, he couldn't deny the usefulness of such a device – if they'd had them in his early days at Torchwood, it might have prevented them all being caught off-guard so easily the day that he had disappeared.

Jack's voice crackled in. "Is that the song of a nightingale I hear?"

"Hello to you too, Jack. Tell me what's happening."

"Is Greg there?"

Martha glanced over and found the young man fiddling with his earpiece in a desperate effort to alter the volume. She stifled a snigger. "Yeah, he's right beside me. He's having slight technical difficulties right now, but with any luck he should be–"

"Got it," Greg chimed. "Working now."

"Greg. Good to hear from you. What've you got for me?"

"An empty Hub? Lois and the policeman haven't shown up yet."

There was a long pause.

Martha frowned. "Jack, you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry." His voice was quieter, a harsh whisper. It made the comms crackle.

"Sorry, Jack, you're going to have to speak up," Martha said. "We can't hear you properly."

"I said I've found a room that was hidden when we were here before. At least, I'm assuming it's another room. For all I know, it might be a broom cupboard, but that'd just be my luck, wouldn't it? I don't know what's on the other side, so you're gonna have to bear with me. If there's nothing, I'll be silent in case there's something hiding nearby."

"And if there is something in there?" Concern echoed in Greg's voice.

"Then I'll scream like a little girl, and you can both have a good laugh about it."

Martha nodded, though only Greg could see her. "Right, we'll get on with scanning the clones in the Vaults, see if we can find anything."

"Good luck. So far as I know, they're perfect replicas."

"They can't be perfect, Jack. That's biologically impossible – even twins aren't identical. There are always tell-tale signs. Trust me, I'm a doctor."

Jack laughed under his breath. "Whatever you say. Take good care of Greg, and don't beat up Ianto's clone too much. I might use him when I get back." Greg was sure that Jack would have winked at this point had he been in the same room.

"Jack, time and a place," Martha scolded. Her expression softened. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Ha. I'm the man who can't die, remember?"

"Doesn't mean I–" Martha sighed as the scuffling sound of Jack moving told her that he was no longer listening. She turned to Greg. "Come on. Let's see if these clones are as perfect as Jack seems to think."

--

Half an hour later, Greg and Martha were down in the medical bay, trying to sort through various samples that they had taken from the clones after heavily sedating them. Normally, Martha would have been frustrated at the lack of a match. On this occasion, however, she was more irritated by the fact that the results were literally perfect matches. "This doesn't make sense," she muttered. "There has to be something that's out of place, some way to tell."

Greg looked up from the microscope that he was using – at least there was one piece of equipment in the bay that he could recognise and use, although it did seem remarkably stronger and more accurate than the ones that he remembered. "There's nothing unusual from the blood samples, either. O positive."

Martha frowned at him.

"Oh God, what?"

Martha didn't reply. Instead, she crossed the medical bay and began searching through the cupboards, eventually pulling out a small spinning stand of vials. She flicked through it with her fingers, squinting at the labels. Apparently finding the one that she was looking for, she removed it from the rack and double-checked the label. "Here, test some of this."

Greg took the vial from her and gently tapped a drop onto a spare slide, slotting it under the microscope. "B positive. Whose is this?"

"That's what I thought," said Martha, more to herself than to him.

"Martha?"

She shook her head and tapped at the comm still nestled in her ear. "Jack, you still there?"

Several seconds passed in silence before a reply came. "Yeah. Sorry, got kinda caught up with something. Think I–" He grunted involuntarily. "-found something. I can't see Ianto anywhere, but there are maybe a hundred people here, fastened into some sort of machine. I think they're human. None of them seem conscious, but–"

Martha cut him off. "Jack, sorry to interrupt, but I just need to know a couple of things."

"Shoot."

"What's Ianto's blood type?"

Jack paused. "B...positive? Negative? Something like that. Isn't it in the files?"

"Yeah." Martha sounded hesitant and uncertain. "What about yours?"

"Mine's in there as well." There was a clicking sound in the background as Jack fiddled with the nearest containment chamber, trying to wrestle the wrist straps undone.

"No, I mean, what's your blood type?"

"If this is Greg's idea of a decent security question, tell him to go back to the drawing board, because Ianto knows my blood type. Which means that all of those delightful shape-shifting aliens will know as well."

Martha sighed. "Just answer the question, Jack."

"O. Mind telling me what's with the sudden blood fascination?"

"Positive? Because according to what we've got here, the clone Ianto's blood type is B positive. Whereas Ianto's blood sample in the cupboards is O positive."

Greg frowned at Martha. "That was Ianto's sample? Are you sure it wasn't mislabelled?"

Jack suggested the same thing over the comms as he spoke.

"No, I'm sure I remember it being O positive when I took that sample," Martha insisted. She had travelled to Cardiff just to check through the new medical equipment for them, and re-fill all the files, the old samples having been destroyed during the explosion.

"And I'm sure I remember Owen telling me it was B something," Jack answered. There was a slight irritation in his voice.

Martha sighed. "I'm not debating that, Jack. The thing is, blood types can change."

Greg raised an eyebrow at her. "They can?"

"It's really rare, but it happens sometimes after a transplant."

"Ianto hasn't had a transplant. Have you checked his medical files? Aside from a few colds, a bout of flu and various alien-induced illnesses, he's had a pretty clean bill of health," Jack pointed out.

"Let me finish, Jack," Martha said. "In really rare cases, a person's blood can lose antigens through an infection or an autoimmune disease, too."

A cracking noise resounded from Jack's end of the line as he struggled to free a different person from the structure, hoping that his first attempt had just been on a rogue one. "Ugh, these things are stronger than they look. Anyway, are you trying to accuse me of passing some sort of infection to him?"

"Frankly, Jack, with the amount of sexual partners you've had through the years, I'd be more amazed if you_ hadn't_ passed something to him," Martha answered. "Besides, low-level autoimmunity can actually be beneficial, and schizophrenia's got suspected links to autoimmune diseases, so it might be genetic."

"I deleted the files on his mother," Jack said sharply.

"Yeah, and you left a gaping great hole where they should have been. A common surname's more difficult to track down, but there are records intact if you dig deeply enough. And that's really not the sort of thing you ought to be concealing, anyway."

"I didn't want the rest of the team looking into his past, okay?" Jack let go of the structure suddenly as a jolt of electricity surged through it. He cried out in pain.

"Jack?" Martha asked. "Was that you screaming like a girl like you promised? You okay?"

Jack didn't answer. He was more preoccupied with the fact that he could see himself standing in the doorway of the room.

"You people just can't leave well enough alone, can you?" the other Jack asked.

* * *

**I probably don't deserve your reviews, but I'll ask nicely anyway - please? **


	49. CLOSING TIME Chapter 14

**Okay. Once again, it's been a couple of days. I've been busy with media stuff. **

**I was going to leave this update until tomorrow, but then I remembered that the majority of my readers are actually from the US, so they'll still be up by now, I think. Plus, you deserved an update. **

**The plot of this chapter was planned, then it digressed, and then it switched again. But at least I know how this fic will end. I just need to figure out how to get there.**

**I thought this episode was going to be really long, but now I'm thinking it won't be much over 20 chapters. And after that, onto One Good Reason, which will be fantastic and very fun to write.**

**Warning: This chapter is unbeta'd, because mine were sleepy/asleep. Yeah. Any mistakes are entirely my fault. Sorry. I hope it doesn't interrupt your enjoyment of this chapter.**

* * *

Jack eyed his doppelganger with a mixture of suspicion, anger and approval. "You certainly have a knack for choosing the better looking ones to imitate, I'll give you that. Mind telling me where Ianto is?"

The other Jack grinned. "Not at all, actually. He's in the other room, just behind there." He gestured towards the door on the right.

Jack narrowed his eyes at him. "You first."

His clone didn't falter, striding confidently towards the door in a manner that struck Jack as creepily identical to his own. A wave of something akin to déjà vu swept over him. Nevertheless, he cautiously followed, keeping a hand firmly on his Webley.

"There's no need to pull out your gun, Jack." The clone didn't even turn as he spoke.

"You know me too well."

"He thinks about you a lot. And not much else." The clone paused to hold the door open for him.

Jack smirked as he placed his own hand on the door, his fingers overlapping the clone's slightly. "Y'know, you're pretty cute. I'd ask if I knew you from somewhere, but the question seems pretty moot."

"Just a tad."

Jack regarded him. "You have that accent down pretty well, too. But I can't help but wonder if your Marilyn Monroe impression is as good as mine." He stepped into the room behind his doppelganger and noted the lack of windows with some disapproval. "What's wrong, don't you guys tan well?"

The other Jack looked at him in surprise, then smiled. "The colours of your world are bright. We prefer the darkness unless it is necessary." He pressed his hand against the wall, and the room lit up.

It was large, around the same size as the warehouses nearer the Bay. Quite how such a vast expanse of a room could fit into the small shop exterior was beyond Jack. But then, he'd given up questioning all of Cardiff's oddities. In the centre of the room, and taking up the majority of the space, was a gargantuan metal structure similar to the one in the previous room, its central colonnade supporting it against the ceiling – or, quite possibly, supporting the ceiling against the structure. From the colonnade sprouted perhaps a hundred metal legs, each of these in turn supporting some sort of capsule or pod, the top half exposed to the darkness and the naked air. The bottom half of each capsule acted as a seat, supporting a fragile body inside it. Some were empty, but these were in the minority.

The only thing that distinguished the structure in this room from the one in the previous, other than its size, was that another pod was fixed in the centre of the colonnade, at the exact point from which the legs sprouted. It was too far up to be clearly visible, but Jack could see the vague outline of a figure within the fogged up chamber. As he stared up at it, the entire structure moved slightly, as though breathing.

His clone followed his line of sight. "That's our mother."

"Huh." Jack stepped closer to inspect it further. The more he tried to focus on the shape inside the chamber, the harder it seemed to be to pin it down. It was like it was a biological perception filter. Or something along those lines. He wasn't quite sure.

The other Jack cleared his throat. "Getting distracted?"

"Not at all. I'm just doing my job."

His clone smiled. "Of course. Torchwood. Observe, collect, destroy."

"Wrong memories. That's Torchwood One."

"Is it?"

Jack watched himself raise an eyebrow, and returned the gesture. "Torchwood One got themselves killed by their own policy. I like to think we're smarter than that."

"And are you?"

"Maybe. Smart enough not to try killing you."

"Smart enough to come here alone."

Jack shot him a scathing look. "I didn't want to risk anybody else."

"You couldn't trust them."

"I trust them well enough."

The other Jack let out a mirthless laugh. "Please, you don't even trust _him_. He'd trust you with his life – has done already, so many times – and yet you wouldn't do the same."

"I can't."

"Even if you could." His clone gave a fleeting glance towards the colonnade before facing him once more, his jaw set. "Just what did you ever do to deserve him, Captain Jack Harkness?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't know. I gave up asking myself questions without an answer."

"Stockholm syndrome, maybe."

"I didn't take him hostage," Jack snapped.

"Didn't you? When you shot his lover right in front of him, when you let him think that it was all his fault, you're telling me you didn't realise you were shutting himself inside his own mind? You made him the worst sort of hostage. You made him depend on you deliberately."

"I don't care what you think I did. I'd never do that."

"Not consciously. But you're an old hat at torture, aren't you, Jack?" Once more, there was a lilt to his voice, an emphasis on Jack's name that rang long-silenced bells in his mind. A memory he couldn't quite place.

Even so, he didn't rise to the bait. "You seem to know an awful lot from surface memories alone."

The other Jack smiled. "Like I said, he thinks about you a lot. And not much else." He stuck his hands in the pocket of his greatcoat – Jack wondered how they were able to replicate clothing as well – and began walking around the metal structure. "Tell me honestly, Jack – do you think he actually loves you?"

"Love doesn't have anything to do with it." Jack frowned slightly as he followed.

"He thinks it does. You know that. It's what you do with all of them – make them depend on you, love you, and then cast them aside. Observe, collect, destroy. Ianto was right – you really are Torchwood."

"It's not like that at all." Jack's frown deepened. He didn't know how to explain himself, because it was so natural to him, to his world, that he'd never needed words. "If somebody needs someone to rely on, why would you deny them that?"

"You give them love just because you can." The other Jack reached out and touched Jack's cheek. "You're like us. That's what we do, Jack. All of those hurting people out there, all the ones you try and protect – we give them back what they lost. We give them love again."

Jack shook his head. "No. You don't. You were wrong – your replicas aren't perfect. You're just giving them a pale imitation."

"Our imitation fooled you for long enough."

"That's not the point. It's not about whether or not you fool them. It's the fact that they aren't the people they lost, however alike the replacement might be. It isn't the person they fell in love with."

"Isn't it? We use their perception of their loved ones to create our replicas. They see exactly who they saw before. The perception of the person that they loved is exactly the same. There isn't any part of the replica that they don't love. It's more perfect than the original."

"Okay, ignoring the incredible immorality of that for a second, are you telling me that you're not actually a clone of me, but a clone of how Ianto sees me?"

The other Jack nodded.

"Huh." Jack cast a critical eye on his clone once again. "See, I don't actually see much difference. A little bit in personality, but I'm assuming that's because you're in front of me rather than Ianto, right?"

The other Jack grinned. "Fascinating, isn't it? We're exactly what this planet needs, Jack Harkness. You can see that."

"You're not so good with the telepathy thing right now. Because I'm not thinking you're necessary at all."

"Oh yeah? What about all of your casualties of war, Captain? What about all of those trapped on Flatholm Island? You rescued them, but they still need saving. Their families need comforting. They want their missing families and friends back, and you can't give them that, because they can't cope with the truth. Is it so wrong to comfort them with a lie? Isn't that what you're doing with Ianto Jones?"

Jack regarded him for a moment. "I'm not lying to him. Never have."

"You've kept the truth from him. And you've lied with your actions. You've let him believe that he's something to you."

"He is."

"Not what he wants to be," the other Jack retorted. "You can't give him that. You can't grow old with him. You can't even understand him. Why should you be selfish enough to prevent him being truly happy?"

"You honestly think that somebody fake could make him happy?"

"I'm as real as you are, Jack. Just a different way of existing. Entirely selfless."

Jack's expression hardened. "Okay. We'll let him choose."

The other Jack smirked. "No bias allowed. No mention of which of us is the clone. And then we'll see who he chooses."

"Fine with me." Jack raised his chin slightly. "If he chooses me, you have to return everybody that you've taken hostage. And you have to follow Torchwood's orders."

"If he chooses me, you have to let us replace whoever we like. And let Torchwood deal with the consequences."

"All right. Bet's on."

* * *

**Wow, we're on 420 reviews! You guys are amazing. I think we can at least break 450 reviews by Chapter 50, right? **

**I'm really sleepy (nearly midnight here), but I'll still try to reply to all reviews. Might take me a few hours, though, if you reply while I'm asleep.**


	50. CLOSING TIME Chapter 15

**ORRIEN SUCKS. **

**There. I said what you were all thinking. I'm sorry. -cries- I was off school today because I was ill from stress, and although some of the lateness of this chapter was laziness (I will admit that), some of it was down to panic about universities and stuff. **

**Definitely going to follow my dream of becoming a scriptwriter. If anybody has any useful contacts at all, or any suggestions of potential work experience, I would love you forever more. You probably don't want to give them to me because this chapter was late, but maybe if I beg nicely..? Also, the sooner all of this gets sorted, the sooner I can get back to this. **

**So. I've been writing scripts. If anybody wants to get into email correspondence, maybe read one through for me (they aren't that great, because I've just started - but I need help to improve!), that would be amazing. I would be incredibly grateful (albeit also a bunch of jittery nerves, because this is all new to me). **

**Mark and I are still loyally working on One Good Reason, and it WILL be epic. Two Doctors, two worlds, two sides of the Rift! In fact, almost as many doubles as Closing Time! xD **

**Many thanks to my beta readers as ever. Hopefully Martha is more in character this time around, and clone-Jack definitely is! I wrote this without a solid idea of which Jack was which - incredibly fun to do. But Mark and I have an inkling which is the real one. Do you? I'm curious. **

**Really hope this was worth the wait. I wanted to get it perfect. Or near enough that my perfectionist self was pleased with it. **

* * *

Greg peered curiously over Martha's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Martha looked up from the computer database that she was searching. "Looking up the medical records of Ianto's parents."

"His parents worked for Torchwood?"

Martha shook her head, frowning at the computer screen.

"Then why would they be on the Torchwood database?" Greg asked. "Is this a new policy, keeping operatives' families on record as well?"

Martha looked at him in surprise, then laughed. "Everybody's on record. It's like...a worldwide net of information. You can just search for information, and find it. Well, that's the theory, anyway."

"Worldwide? How does that work?"

"All the computers are connected. It's called the internet."

Greg frowned. "So it's like a joint database for all the Torchwoods?"

Martha smiled. "Not just Torchwood. All the computers, all around the world. In every single home."

Greg visibly stiffened. "There are computers in homes?"

"Yeah." Martha grinned. "Not just used for science these days. Writing, communication, finding information, even playing games with people you've never met. Fascinating new world, huh?"

Greg worried his lower lip with his teeth. "Yeah, fascinating. Sorry – you said all the computers were connected?"

"Yep. All of those connected to the internet are connected to each other."

"And we – Torchwood – we're connected to the internet?"

Martha smiled. "Sure."

Greg stared at her for a moment. "What the hell happened to the Official Secrets Act?"

A heartbeat passed between them before Martha burst into laughter. "God, no! You can choose what information to share. Don't worry!"

Greg let out a visible sigh of relief. "I actually thought for a second there that everybody knew. Everybody – out there. Knowing what we do."

"You prefer it a secret? I think I'd like everybody to know the truth, if I thought they were ready."

"Really?" Greg looked at her as though she were utterly mad. "But wouldn't you feel like everybody was depending on you?"

Martha smiled gently at him. "Greg, hate to break it to you, but everybody's depending on us as it is. They just don't know it."

Greg returned her smile. "You know what I mean. If we get it wrong, it's only Torchwood that we have to answer to. There aren't angry mobs of people demanding to know about our latest alien discoveries. There's still tonnes of pressure, sure, but not as much as there would be."

"Look who's turning into Mr Insightful," Martha teased. She glanced back at the computer screen. "Nope, according to his genetics, there's no way that Ianto can be O positive. And his birth certificate has him down as B positive. I doubt that two doctors managed to get it wrong."

"Unless doctors these days just aren't that smart." He caught sight of Martha's expression and hurriedly amended, "Not that that can be said of any doctors in this room, of course."

"Nice save."

"Thanks." Greg rubbed at his face. "God, I'd forgotten how exhausting this work is."

"You and me both." Martha tilted her head to one side, like she was trying to physically view the information from a different angle. "If Ianto is O positive, why would two doctors and Jack – three different people – be convinced otherwise? It doesn't make sense."

Greg thought for a moment. "Because they were telepathically attuned to the idiocy of the doctor who first made the mistake."

Martha laughed. "I'm sure that's the answer. Not sure Jack'll appreciate you saying he's attuned to idiots, but–" Her eyes widened. "You're an accidental genius, Greg Bishop."

"I am?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yep. They're attuned. The clones are attuned, it's – it's like a hive mind." She was gesturing frantically with excitement now. "They take surface memories, Jack said. What if they instantly share those memories, those thoughts?"

"So the doctors were both clones? Jack was – is – a clone?"

Martha shook her head. "No, sorry, confusing you. Okay. Ianto was B positive when he was born. Somehow – probably an infection or something from Jack – he changed to O positive blood type. With me so far?"

Greg nodded.

"Right. Except that Ianto doesn't know that his blood type has changed, because the samples are just for records – nobody really looks at them unless they have a reason to. And because Ianto thinks he's B positive, all the clones think that he's B positive as well."

"So even though he isn't, because he thinks he is...he is?"

"Exactly!" Martha beamed.

"That..." Greg shook his head. "This Torchwood is even more confusing than mine, honestly."

"Now we need to figure out how this information helps us."

"We could tell who's a clone by tricking them into believing false information," Greg suggested. "I think that's what Jack tried to do."

"Just this once, he might've had a brilliant idea." Martha smiled. "Okay, so we know that the Ianto in the vaults is a clone. What about Anna?"

Greg paused.

"Unsure? Okay. We can work with that."

"Martha–"

"What we can do," Martha continued, "is make her believe that–"

"Martha," Greg interrupted, a little louder.

She looked over at him. "Yeah?"

"I don't have a watch – well, not a working one – and there don't seem to be any clocks around here, but...don't you think it's been a while since we heard from Jack?"

* * *

The room was a remarkably sharp haze as Ianto regained consciousness, as though several different – though perfectly detailed – versions of its layout had been transposed over each other. Eventually, it settled into one image, though Ianto couldn't have said which, or even if it were the 'right one'. He'd given up trying to discern what was truth when it came to this room. He was also more taken by another thought, as despite there now only being one room, there were quite plainly two Jacks standing before him. "Oh God."

"Not heaven just yet, I'm afraid. Though to be honest, without me, could heaven ever match up?" Jack grinned.

The other Jack smirked.

"Was one of you not enough?" Ianto groaned. "I have a headache as it is."

"If it's just your head that's aching, I'm not doing my job right." A familiar winning smile, like a caricature of Jack. The bits that he remembered most, though he knew there was more to it. There was always more to Jack.

Ianto watched them both with a strange mixture of confusion and contempt. "And what's your job, exactly?"

"Leader of Torchwood Three. Ex-Time Agent. Conman."

"Ex-conman?"

"Always a conman." The grin fell slightly.

"If you're trying to convince me that you're Jack, you might want to consider the fact that there's usually only one of him."

The Jack on his left shot him a withering look. "Well, gee, I don't know if you noticed, but there are kinda several clones running about."

"Really, I hadn't noticed," Ianto deadpanned. "Completely oblivious."

"Not to mention there are usually at least two of me," the other Jack pointed out. "If not three. One day in 1941, there were four." His face lit up. "You should've been there. We'd have had some fun."

"There were four of you?" Ianto raised an eyebrow. "And yet the world didn't end?"

Jack grinned. "Actually, it did. Twice. But we averted the crises."

"We?"

"Me and the Doctor. Different Doctor each time, though."

Ianto quirked his eyebrows. "So you even replaced him eventually, then."

"He's not the sort to be replaced."

"None of you are," the other Jack interrupted.

Ianto smiled. "Really, Jack would never say that."

"Or at least, he wouldn't mean it, right?" The Jack on his left grimaced.

"I'd want him to. But probably not," Ianto said softly. "No, that's a lie. I wouldn't want him to say it."

"Part of you would."

Ianto paused. "Maybe. I suppose you know better than I do."

Jack shook his head. "No. I've seen it all before, but I never know. I never learn, you ought to have realised that by now." A quick, wry smile. "You're not a replacement for Greg, because it's stupid to even think that somebody can be replaced. Everybody is unique, and so are their ties to everybody else."

"Some ties are similar," the other Jack said slowly. "I won't deny that. I'm a–"

"Fixed point in time and space," Ianto interjected, sounding exhausted.

"I'm part of the universe. Forever. And the universe needs balance – just like everybody does."

"Like yin and yang?" Ianto smirked a little.

The Jack on his left crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Are you mocking my theory of the universe?"

"Absolutely."

"Good." The Jack on his right grinned. "I love a rebel to authority."

"As I was saying," Jack continued, with a sidelong glance at his twin, "I need balance. I need people to make me feel human, and people that understand when I need to shut myself off from the world. I need people that can laugh about all of this, and I need people who treat this job seriously. I need people that love me with everything that they've got, and people that understand that I can't do the same. I need people. And they're not the same. They all keep me grounded, they all stop me turning into a complete monster, but there will never be two of them the same. Ever."

"That's...enlightening."

"You don't sound convinced," the other Jack pointed out.

"That's because the Jack he knows would never admit anything like that."

Ianto paused. "And that...is very clever. Oh, that's very clever."

Both Jacks raised an eyebrow simultaneously.

"And that's very creepy. Don't do that."

"Sorry."

"You're trying to get me to choose between the two of you."

"Oh, finally he gets it."

"You're trying to get me to choose the real Jack out of the two of you."

"Points for perception. Definite points for perception." Jack grinned.

"Since when do I give points?" The other Jack frowned.

"Really, though, did you honestly think that I'd ever believe that one of you was the real Jack?"

"Yes?"

"As though Jack would honestly ever collaborate with anybody who'd taken members of his team hostage."

Both Jacks' faces fell.

"You really didn't think this through, did you?"

* * *

**...I don't deserve your reviews. -cries- I'm SORRY!**


	51. CLOSING TIME Chapter 16

**Right. Sorry for not updating yesterday, I was on an English trip...to the cinema! We saw Creation at the Barbican. It was pretty cool. Most of the class were in tears. I was welling up, but refused to actually cry so that Ianto would be the last thing I'd cried at for a while longer. **

**This was rendered pointless today, when I started sobbing after realising how this episode is going to end. Nobody is going to die. But this is possibly the most heartbreaking thing I've ever imagined, so I don't know how I'm going to write it. But I was talking it over with a friend today, and she made me realise that it's the only ending possible, given the circumstances. It's totally what Jack would do, but I just feel so upset that he has to do it. **

**...Anyway. I've plotted out the next couple of chapters to the end. I've got it down as 19, but this chapter covered less scenes than I thought it would, so it might stretch to 20. I won't know until it's written. The point is that we're nearly done. I'm really looking forward to starting One Good Reason. Hopefully, the two Doctors will help instill that episode with Christmas cheer. This episode has been rather morbid, upon reflection. It's only going to get more so. The epilogue is slightly more upbeat, though, if that helps any. **

**This chapter also sees the return of Lois and Andy! Their sudden reappearance does have a vague plot link, it's just that because this chapter ran over, I didn't have time to include Part B of their trauma. So you'll see that next chapter. I'm really happy with how the characterisation and even the PLOT came out in this chapter. I don't think you understand quite how happy I am. **

**Special thanks to Mark and Storms for beta-ing, and to Claire for moral support and helping with my word!fail. Without her, this chapter would only be half-written, and even that half would be incomprehensible. **

* * *

"Bloody Cardiff." Andy scowled as a motorcyclist zipped in front of him, only to slow a few metres ahead as, like the rest of them, it got stuck behind a queue of what seemed like hundreds of cars.

Lois gave a soft sigh and glanced out of the window. It was stifling inside the car – naturally, the air conditioning system was faulty – but she didn't dare open the window. Just the idea of the fume build-up around them made her cough.

A small truck pulled up beside them. Its driver leaned on the horn for several seconds.

"Oh, shut up, mate," Andy muttered. "Not like we'll get there any faster by deafening everybody, is it?"

Lois smiled despite their lateness. Still, the entire city was completely gridlocked, so perhaps Jack and the others were also caught in the rush, or would at least understand it as an excuse. "Last time I accept a lift from you, Andy Davidson," she said, only half-teasing.

Andy looked over in surprise, as though he had completely forgotten that she was in the car. "Oi, you can't go blaming all this lot on me!" He flailed a hand in the air, gesturing to the ridiculous amounts of traffic.

"It's not usually this bad, is it?" Lois heaved another sigh. "Must just be my luck. Always late on the job, no matter how early I set out."

"Nah." Andy glanced to his right in irritation as the truck-driver beside them honked his horn yet again. "You know what I reckon it is? That bloody new department store in the town centre. Always rebuilding Cardiff, they are. Never happy with what they've got."

"You sound like a grumpy old man," Lois laughed.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Andy looked beseechingly at her. "Ruddy mayor's fixated on bringing in more tourists, thinking that the roads'll magically expand to fit them all in. Bet she's never been stuck in traffic this bad." His scowl returned as the truck-driver's horn began once more. "Be stuck here all bloody day at this rate."

Lois tapped her fingers against the dashboard in a rhythmic fashion. "If you like, I have some biscuits in my bag."

Andy looked at her oddly. "You carry around biscuits?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Right. Of course. Makes perfect sense, that does."

"It's useful if we were to, I don't know, get stuck in traffic?" Lois shot him a triumphant smile.

--

"Did the thought occur to you that maybe Jack...might?" The figure on the left scratched his chin. "If he was being particularly–"

"Stupid?" Ianto suggested. "It occurred to me. I dismissed it."

"Even if I told you that he was the real Jack?" The left Jack gestured to the other one.

Ianto raised an eyebrow and watched the captain carefully. "Why would you tell me that?" he asked slowly.

"Think about it. What possible reason is there for having two Jacks?" He paused. "Okay, aside from that."

"I wasn't thinking anything." Ianto frowned.

"No, I was."

"Oh." Ianto gently cleared his throat. "Anyway, if either of you would be so kind as to actually disentangle me from this machine..?"

Both Jacks glanced at each other, but stood for several seconds in silence.

"No, really," Ianto continued. "I accept that neither of you want to show that you have to prove yourself to be Jack, but I'm starting to get cramp."

One of the Jacks grinned; the other laughed and walked over to help wrestle with the equipment.

As soon as Ianto was free, he stretched out his limbs and ran his hands down his face, like he was trying to wake himself up. He certainly didn't seem too alert – he wasn't smiling and his eyes looked heavy. But then, he hadn't been getting much sleep.

"Right. Plan of action?" He looked between the two Jacks. "No? Okay, up to me, then." He paused. "Back to the Hub."

"To the Hub?" One of the Jacks pulled a face. "Really? When you know that one of us is a threat, if not both?"

"To the Hub," Ianto clarified, "where there are weapons and medical scanners and a medic. And torture devices, should worst come to worst."

Jack smirked. "You don't know how to use them."

"Then I can experiment until I find out," Ianto said quietly.

"One of us might be Jack."

"One of us _is_ Jack."

"In which case, he'll recover." Ianto swallowed. "I could just put a bullet through both your heads and have done with it."

"But you can't bring yourself to shoot Jack."

"No." The other Jack shook his head. "He doesn't want to shoot the alien. Jack would come back. The alien might not."

Ianto looked up at him. "Definite points for perception," he murmured.

Jack merely shrugged. "So, Ianto Jones, what's your plan for getting us back to the Hub? The SUV's outside, but then you'd have to keep your eyes on the road rather than on us."

"But if we go by foot, it'll take longer, and if one of you is Jack, then you've left Greg all by himself in the Hub. So the sooner we get back, the better."

"He's with Martha, but I see your point. Also, seeing clones might freak people out a little."

Ianto shrugged a shoulder. "We have Retcon, if we need it."

Keeping both Jacks in front of him, they walked back to the SUV, which was parked just at the end of the street. One passer-by gave them an odd look, but Ianto wasn't sure whether to attribute this to the fact that there were two Jacks, or the fact that aforementioned Jacks kept shooting questionable sidelong glances at each other. Ianto rolled his eyes.

He'd liked to have been able to rule out either of them being Jack, but the unfortunate truth of the matter was that Jack would certainly flirt with himself, even in front of Ianto. There were just some opportunities too great for the captain to resist.

Which left Ianto with few options as to how to prove, one way or another, if either of the figures in front of him were Jack. He'd been sure before that neither of them were, but that certainty wavered with every passing second. One of them had been acting – was acting, in fact – a lot like Jack. The other one had had moments when he hadn't been acting like Jack, but Ianto still couldn't say for certain that he wasn't. After all, there was a lot he didn't know about Jack – it might just have been another side to the captain that he hadn't seen before.

As they reached the end of the road, the accumulation of traffic became obvious. One of the Jacks passed a comment that Ianto couldn't quite make out over the thrum of petrol fumes chugging uselessly into the atmosphere. Several drivers were honking their horns in an almost dulcet manner, though it was far too loud to be bearable. The amalgam of sound and smell was overpowering.

"Must have been some sort of accident," Ianto concluded. "Looks like we'll be better off by foot after all."

"Good thing both of me are wearing my sturdy walking boots." One of the Jacks grinned as he began to walk in the general direction of the Hub. The other one followed close behind, but kept silent.

Ianto stared at him. "Pardon?"

Jack just looked innocently at him. "What?"

"You just said 'both of me'. Forgive me for being slightly confused at your warped yet somehow logical grammatical sense."

Jack waved a hand at him. "You encounter clones as often as I have, you get used to it. Just wait until humans start time travelling. The shifting tenses might just kill you."

"Oh? You mean like the Future Semi-Conditionally Modified Sub-inverted Plagal Past Subjunctive Intentional?"

Now it was Jack's turn to stare. "You're not supposed to know that yet."

Ianto laughed. "It's a quotation, actually. Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."

"Ah." Comprehension dawned on Jack's face. "Good book. Although he got it a little wrong."

"The tensing?"

"No, the fact that mice are smarter than dolphins."

Ianto smiled. "Of course. What a silly mistake."

Jack waved a finger. "You laugh now, but in a hundred years, it's dolphins who manage to first communicate with Medusians, not humans. Or mice." He quirked his eyebrows and increased his pace.

Ianto frowned for a moment before hurrying to catch up with the striding figure. "Jack, wait – you're not serious?"

Jack just laughed.

--

Martha pursed her lips as she tried in vain to re-activate the comms system. "No use," she said finally. "They're working fine, according to the Hub's programming. Jack's just...not picking up."

"Maybe he got distracted?" Greg suggested, somewhat half-heartedly. The medical bay was marginally bigger than it had been in his day, but that didn't make it any more exciting a room to be stuck in for hours on end. He was too worried to touch the machinery he didn't recognise – which was most of it, in all truthfulness – in case he broke something, which meant that he wasn't much use at all.

He was tempted to go for a walk, stretch his legs a little around the Plass, but dismissed the idea. He didn't want to leave a relative stranger alone in the Hub, even less so now that she'd been so helpful. Admittedly, they hadn't been able to put any of their theory into practice yet, but that didn't mean that it was any the less useful. If nothing else, it had been insightful. They knew roughly how the aliens' cloning process worked. Perhaps they ought to catalogue it somewhere. They had done that sometimes, back in his Torchwood, though with Tilda Brennan as leader, there had never been much to record. She had always been more concerned with potential threats than potential discoveries.

Still, the other members had made some effort toward it. Greg remembered Rhydian keeping a small black notebook in his pocket for jotting down quick notes, though they had been few and far between. He expected that Ianto was much more committed to such records. Having said this, given the apparent burst of recent technology, perhaps the records were computerised. He'd ask later.

"You all right?" Martha asked, looking over at him in concern. "You look a bit pale."

"Just a little exhausted."

Martha shot him a chastising look. "You're a medic. You ought to know better." Nevertheless, she smiled. "Have you eaten yet today?"

"I had some toast this morning."

Martha glanced down at her watch. "It's gone two. Blimey. I think, Mr Bishop, we deserve a lunch break, don't you? After all, if Jack can't even be bothered to keep in contact..." She grinned. "Come on. Lunch."

She strode purposefully up the staircase, sending another glance back in Greg's general direction to see if he was tagging along.

He was just about to follow when a great squall resounded from every wall of the Hub. Greg had the distinct feeling that this time, it wasn't a phone call. Red lights began flashing all around them.

"What's that alarm?" he asked Martha, having to yell over the noise.

"Lockdown! The Hub's going into lockdown!"

* * *

**Reviews? Pretty-please?**

**I made a Douglas Adams reference. That's got to be worth a teensy review, at least!**


	52. CLOSING TIME Chapter 17

**Thanks to Mork and Storms for beta'ing this chapter at fairly late notice, and also to constantly pestering me to update. Sometimes, your messages actually get through, see? **

**I really wish I could say that I was proud of this chapter, but I'm not. It's certainly not anywhere near my best, but you guys deserved an update, Mork deserves to be able to get on with writing One Good Reason, and...well, so do I. It's best for all parties if this fic gets finished as soon as possible. **

**So I'm sorry if it's not up to usual standards, but I did what I could in the time available. There are two chapters left, and this episode should be finished by the end of the week. **

**After that, I'll be doing a collaboration fic with Mark (Scarf Warriors), so if you want the full story, you ought to add him to Author Alerts. Otherwise you'll only get the Torchwood side of events, and it won't be nearly as awesome. Oh, and check out Return Trip, his recent DW fic. Because that's part of the Fourteen timeline. And is an awesome read. =D**

* * *

Ianto ran into the Hub, both Jacks sprinting close behind. The sirens wailing around them were deafening; he had his hands clamped firmly over his ears. "Turn it off!" he yelled.

Martha turned to him – so she was here after all – and began mouthing frantically at him. Cautiously, he removed his hands from his ears, wincing at the pain of the alarm but trying to ignore it in order to hear Martha. "I can't turn it off! It's in lockdown – how did you even get in?"

He shook his head, dismissing her question for the moment, and hurried over to the nearest workstation, fingers tapping anxiously at the keyboard and entering security codes.

Martha stared at him as the sirens around them slowly waned. "I thought lockdown didn't have an override."

"It doesn't." Ianto stood up from the workstation, running a hand through his hair as he breathed a visible sigh of relief. "But the alarm does. Tosh implemented a manual silencer after we first got locked in."

"Which still leaves the question of how you got in."

"Tourist entrance." Ianto gave her a bashful smile. "It was us that triggered the lockdown. Only just got through the door when the alarm started going."

"What did you do?"

"Not me." Ianto held up his hands and sidestepped to reveal the two Jacks standing behind him.

"Oh God." Martha stared. "Ianto, which is the real one?"

"Why are you asking me? For all you know, I might be a clone."

"You can't be. We've been running tests, and we think it's impossible for these aliens to take the same form as each other," Greg explained. "It's like an instinct not to contradict each other."

"You don't know that the Ianto in the basement isn't the real one," Ianto countered.

Greg sighed. "No, but if you were the clone I'm fairly sure you'd be trying to convince us that you weren't. Besides, Jack was convinced."

"Might not've been Jack."

Martha bit her lip. "I get what you mean. By that reasoning, any of us might be a clone. We wouldn't know."

"We have to trust each other," Greg said quietly. "It's the only thing we can do."

"Okay." Martha heaved a sigh. "Two Jacks. One's a clone, one's real. We need to tell the difference. Any ideas?"

"Make us strip?" One Jack suggested.

"That wouldn't help. You'd be identical under the clothing."

Jack shrugged. "I'd like to think that it might inspire, at least."

Martha wrinkled her nose. "The sight of you naked, Jack, is a sight I've seen once too often."

The other Jack frowned. "When have you seen me naked?"

"You need to be more careful about deleting your CCTV footage," Martha replied with a small smirk.

Jack grinned and laughed. "I knew you couldn't resist looking."

"If we could possibly return to the topic at hand?" Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"Yep, absolutely." Martha nodded, still smiling. She returned to the nearby computer screen. "What we could do is challenge Jack's perception. The clones rely on the perception of a person – presumably Ianto, in this case – to make a copy. Is there anything we know about Jack that Ianto doesn't know?"

"Greg?" Ianto looked imploringly at the young medic.

Greg took a nervous step toward the two Jacks. "There's nothing I can think of, to be honest."

One of the Jacks raised an eyebrow. "What about the old team?"

"Rhydian had a nice ass," the other commented.

"Nice eyes, too."

"Amazing eyes. Hidden behind the glasses, though."

Greg blinked. "Okay, so apparently they both know about the old team. New tactics, anyone?"

"The Doctor," Martha suggested.

"_Really_ nice ass," Jack replied.

"The year that never was."

"End of the world survivors club," both Jacks replied in unison.

Ianto ran his hands down his face. "Okay, so it looks like they share a lot more memories than we thought. Martha, you sure about your theory?"

"I was. D'you reckon lie detectors would work?"

"Possibly, but I wouldn't count on it. Besides, the best one's kept in Jack's own vault, which nobody else has access to."

Greg frowned. "Do we need the best?"

"Can we make do with second best?" Ianto asked. "Honestly? When it's Jack we're talking about?"

"Have you got an alternative?" Martha folded her arms.

"Can you both be quiet for a second? I can't hear myself think."

"But we need to talk this out," Ianto said, "because otherwise–"

He was silenced by Greg's lips pressing against his own with such passion that Ianto fell back against the workstation with a clang.

"Blimey," Martha remarked when they finally broke apart. "That was sudden."

"I know," one of the Jacks said, a hint of annoyance in his voice, though he grinned as he spoke. "I wasn't even offered a threesome."

Greg smiled and gestured to the Jack that had spoken.

"That one's Jack," Ianto said, before Greg had the chance.

Jack frowned. "Not sure I approve of the method, but at least you got the right answer."

Martha raised an eyebrow. "I would've thought you'd entirely approve of the method, Jack. Two good-looking young men kissing and all that."

"But I wasn't invited to join in," Jack protested, pouting slightly. "Still, the night is young." He grinned and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Keep dreaming, Jack." Ianto smiled.

Jack scowled. "You spoil all my fun."

"Oh, is that what I do?"

Jack grinned. "Yeah. You ought to be punished for disobedience."

"And that's enough of that, thank you!" Martha rolled her eyes before the two could go any further.

Jack jerked a thumb towards her. "See, now she's trying to spoil my fun," he said to Ianto, before turning to face Martha with a grin. "You want some discipline too, Martha?"

"No thank you, Jack."

"Offer's always open." He turned to face his clone, his expression suddenly severe. "Looks like you lost the bet."

"I'm not sure that counts."

"I'm pretty sure it does."

"It was more Greg than Ianto."

Jack shrugged. "Still my team. Still the right answer in the end. Now, are you going to keep your end of the bargain?"

"That really depends on what Torchwood want us to do," the clone-Jack replied.

"You can start by returning all those that you've replaced."

"And then?"

"Destroy your machines. And leave this planet."

The alien Jack smirked. "Then we'll just infiltrate another planet instead. Is that what you want?"

"That's not my problem. My duty is to protect Earth."

"And are you protecting it, Captain Jack Harkness?" The alien was practically sneering by this point. "Are you protecting them, when you let them lose their loved ones?"

"Loss is necessary."

"Easy for you to say. You've lost so many that you scarcely notice them anymore. You might always be there for them, but what about the rest of their loved ones? What about when they lose so many that even you can't bring them any comfort, Jack?"

"It's necessary," Jack snapped.

The clone smiled as it suddenly shifted into the form of Tosh, her eyes red from crying. "Is that what you tell yourself, Captain? Wouldn't you take us back if you could?"

Jack regarded her coldly. "If it were really you."

"And what are we, Jack?" Owen's face grimaced up at him. "Just atoms. Is that how you justify being the death of us? Is that how you sleep at night?"

"He didn't kill them." Ianto spoke suddenly, before Jack had a chance. His brow was furrowed in anger. "They died defending their planet, doing a job they were proud of."

"He killed me." Lisa's soft voice spoke now. "He shot me without a moment's hesitation, even knowing that you would have done anything to save me."

"_Because_ he knew I would have done anything to save her," Ianto replied, his voice hoarse. "Because there was nothing that could be done. Because I was out of my mind with grief."

"But you didn't have to grieve." Lisa took a step forward and ran a finger gently down his cheek. "You didn't have to lose her. None of you have to lose anybody while we're here."

Jack glowered at the alien. "We need to lose people, so that we can move on and love others. If we didn't, the human race would become static. It would never progress."

"And it wouldn't be the same, anyway." Ianto bit down on his lower lip. "You'd just be a replacement for her."

"Like Jack is?"

"Jack's not a replacement for anybody."

"But that's not how it's always been, is it, Ianto?" Lisa asked. "When it first started, weren't you thinking of me then?"

Ianto made the mistake of looking away. "It doesn't matter how it started."

"So the end justifies the means?"

"That's not the point," Jack intervened. "That was mutual. I let myself act as a stand-in."

"You weren't a stand-in," Ianto argued.

Jack ignored him. "It was mutual," he repeated. "Whereas what you're doing is a lie. The people you replace, their loved ones – what choice do they have?"

"What choice do those taken by the Rift have, Jack?" The alien had taken Gwen's form this time.

"They don't have one. I'll admit that. But it's not our fault, what happens to them."

"Isn't it?" The alien was spitting with fury now. "When you take things that come through the Rift, when you punish its victims, Jack Harkness, you don't give a damn about the consequences! So long as Earth is safe, what does it matter how many get hurt? Even members of your own team!"

"Jack cares," Greg said quietly. "And the fact that you don't know that shows that you don't. Not really. It's all just a facade, like the skin that you wear. You only pretend to care."

Martha stepped forward, a grim smile on her face. "Exactly. Jack cares more about this planet than anybody else." She caught Jack frowning across at her. "Anybody else," she emphasised. "Because he's always here for the human race, protecting it no matter what."

"And that's what Torchwood sign up for." Greg's voice strengthened as he spoke. "Protecting the human race no matter what. And if we die in the line of duty, then we fall proudly. If we lose our memories, or if we get taken, then we do it in defence of Earth."

The alien smirked. "And then he replaces you. One by one, as you fall, he finds others to take your place."

"I've never done that," Jack said, "and I never will." He watched from the corner of his eye as Ianto quietly slipped behind the others to a nearby workstation.

Greg grimaced. "I haven't been replaced. I was missing for years, and things moved on. Torchwood got a new medic and Jack got a new lover, but I still have a place here. They never replaced me."

"Never could." Jack grinned.

"And just for the record, Greg, I'm UNIT's medic, not Torchwood's." Martha smiled.

"Oh. Well, Owen, then. My point still stands."

Ianto ran back, his fingers gripping a small object. He tossed it to Jack. "Found it. One day without me, and you lot manage to mess up the cataloguing system."

Jack grinned. "You know what this is?" He waved the object at the alien, who eyed it with caution. "It's a stasis pod. This things hits the ground, so do you. You won't be able to move."

"Until the power runs out."

"That's more than enough time to lock you in the Vaults."

Gwen's face contorted into a snarl. "And what would you do then, Captain? Just leave me there to rot? You can't stop us all – there are too many of us, you don't know where or who we are."

Jack paused and closed his eyes briefly. "And by the time you wake up, neither will you."

* * *

**Reviews, please - I can't place where I went wrong with this chapter. All input is appreciated, but particularly con-crit. =l**


	53. CLOSING TIME Chapter 18

**It's short, it's late, and it sure as heck ain't a happy ending. But I've made an odd sort of peace, I suppose, with how this ended up. Like I said, the idea made me BAWW. Writing it made me cry even more, but let's not get into that. **

**An amazing thanks to Storms and Mark for putting up with me through this whole episode, and especially to Mark for agreeing to put up with and indeed work with me for another episode yet to come. A reminder that our collaborative fic will be posted by BOTH of us, so if you want the full story, better go add him to your alerts. **

**I'm hoping you'll forgive me (and Jack) for this one. =(**

* * *

Martha looked over at Jack in horror. "Jack! You can't just Retcon an entire species!"

"We don't have a choice," Ianto said quietly, looking at the alien rather than her. "As it is, they have too many memories – of us, of Torchwood, of Earth."

"And we can't trust them," Jack added. "We gave them a chance to leave quietly, and they refused. They're a threat – threats have to be dealt with."

"So is that what is comes down to?" Martha asked. "Eliminating any potential threats? You're meant to be changing Torchwood for the better, Jack, not falling into the same old regime. And you," she continued, rounding on Ianto, "you of all people ought to know better."

Jack regarded her with cold neutrality. "We all lost people at Canary Wharf, Martha, and I understand your concern. But this is Torchwood, not UNIT."

Martha scowled at him. "So, what, I don't get a say? Don't you _dare_ try pulling that one on me, Jack! You know this plan is wrong and if you go ahead with it, you're no better than they are!"

Jack turned on her furiously. "So you'd prefer we let these aliens loose on the human race? Leave them to their own devices, infiltrate our species one by one, destroy us slowly? I know it's not what you want – what any of us wants - but my priority is planet Earth. If I have to make sacrifices to save the planet, the life and the people I love, so be it!"

Martha opened her mouth to retaliate but Greg placed a placating hand on her arm and gave her a stern look. She brushed him aside and stared defiantly at Jack, who pointedly ignored her and turned back to the alien. It had stood there, casually wearing Gwen's form, listening to the team argue, Gwen's features not conveying any of its emotions.

"You think you can gather us one by one, wipe all of our memories, send us back where we came from?"

Jack sneered at her– it. "I know you know we're not stupid. You're all connected, one big hive of information, sharing our memories like we might share a book. We only need one of you." There was a momentary flicker of what looked like panic in Gwen's eyes. "We Retcon you, you forget about us, we send you somewhere where you'll live as normal people."

Greg paled as the alien flickered into his form and turned to run. Greg made as if to follow it, but Jack placed a restraining hand on him. He leant towards Ianto, and whispered into his ear, not taking his eyes off the enemy. Ianto grimaced and nodded, before turning on his heels and marching off.

"Very clever, choosing Greg's body," Jack called after the alien's retreating back. "He's certainly the fastest of us – but we don't need to run to chase you."

* * *

Down in the vaults, Ianto sat motionless, staring at himself from inside the dingy cell. Ianto stared back at his replicate, gazing intently into his eyes, burning resentfully from above those familiar cheeks. He calmly pulled out a small packet and opened it with a sharp pull to the top. Through the tear in the reflective plastic he pulled out a small syringe. The clone watched his double as he filled the syringe with liquid, trepidation gluing his eyes to the yellow tinged substance inside. Wordlessly, Ianto opened the door, stepped forwards and stabbed the needle into the side of his own neck.

* * *

The alien halted suddenly and turned back to Jack, Greg's bright blue eyes ablaze with fury and panic. Jack smirked mirthlessly before continuing. "You're not going anywhere. We're still in lockdown – and we have a couple of you in the vaults. Ianto's there now. It's too late."

Greg's mouth screamed then, a piercing scream laden with hate, fury and fear. Martha felt her knees trembling at the sound, a sustained howl that reverberated through her ears and into her skull.

"Jack, you don't have to do this," she shouted over the cacophony, but Jack shook his head.

"I do have to – and I have. Ianto will be finished by now." On cue, Ianto strode back to them, hands over his ears, ignoring the furious snarl from Greg's doppelganger. He nodded at Jack, and turned to the nearby workstation.

"Never make me give myself Retcon again," he muttered, half to himself and half to Jack, glancing sideways as Martha joined him, her face seemingly impassive. It twisted into a mask of disgust as she watched the two views on the screens. Ianto and Anna were stood in the middle of their respective cells, staring pointedly up at the cameras.

"Jack?" Greg whispered, exhaling slowly as the alien finally stopped its shriek. "Jack, what's happening to it?"

"It's trying to hold on to the hive's information, but there no information to hold onto." Jack blinked in surprise as the other Greg snarled at him, his beautiful blue eyes melting into a viscous liquid, running down his face. Greg gasped and retched as he watched his face melt away, pooling in a sticky puddle on the floor. Jack turned away towards Ianto and Martha in distaste, but they were both transfixed by the screens.

Martha dragged her eyes away and glared at Jack. "They didn't need those memories. They were the memories, that's what held them together. You've just committed genocide, Jack." Martha's voice betrayed no emotion, her face deadpan.

Jack didn't reply. He swept past, striding off in the direction of his office, deliberately not looking at Martha, Ianto, Greg, or the liquefied threat pooled on the floor.

* * *

Jack was sat at his desk, head propped up by his elbows and eyes closed, when Ianto knocked twice and entered. Setting the steaming mug of coffee down on the desk, Ianto stood and waited silently for Jack to acknowledge him.

"We'd better get down to business, catalogue everything, just as always," Jack said, dragged from his attempted solitude by the alluring aroma of the coffee. Ianto allowed himself a small smile as Jack picked up the striped mug and took a deep draught, despite the heat.

"Life goes on. It has to."

"Not for them it doesn't. We wiped them out, and we don't even have a name for their species. They're just 'them'."

"And we will remember them." Ianto shook his head gently and turned to go, but stopped in the doorway as the Hub left lockdown. He turned back to Jack.

"We'll have to let Andy and Lois know what's happened."

"Oh yeah." Jack's eyebrows raised slightly. "Where are they, anyway?"

Ianto smiled, knowing that Jack had all but forgotten about them. "Sitting outside, according to the CCTV. Shivering slightly, but then, this _is_ Cardiff."

Jack nodded and turned away, signalling to Ianto that he was dismissed. Ianto stepped out of the room, but was back immediately. "Just one more thing, sir."

Jack sighed. "Yes, Ianto?"

"Anna's still in the cells, she's beginning to kick up a fuss."

Jack groaned and held his head in his hands.

* * *

**I'd really love to hear your reactions to this. Did anybody else react like me, or am I just too emotional? D=**


	54. CLOSING TIME Epilogue

**It's long, I love it, hope you do too! **

**Off to eat curry now. **

**Add "Scarf Warriors" to your alerts list, ready for first updates some time this week - you'll need to after this cliffie! =O**

* * *

Anna was surprisingly well-mannered about the whole incident, which came as a surprise to Ianto but not at all to Jack – after all, she was a soldier. It wasn't her position to question orders from above. It wasn't the position of any of them to do so, and for some days following the incident, nobody questioned it at all. Reports were submitted without a word. It was the same heavy silence that Jack had experienced a hundred times before – when somebody died without deserving to. It happened far too often.

Everyone became angry and afraid because if it happened to someone else then it might just happen to them, and when reminded of their own mortality it was so, so easy to hate Jack. Quite often, he ended up hating himself enough for all of them, because _dammit_, it _should_ have been him that died instead of them.

And this time the guilt was a hundredfold, because it actually was him that was to blame for this one. The fact that it hadn't been his intention didn't remove the guilt – nor should it. He had been the one that gave the order. The clawing inside his stomach, the inability to sleep (which wasn't directly related to his immortality, though he would never admit it), the headaches – all of it was deserved. He always deserved it. The number of times he'd seen them fall – friends, family, lovers, strangers – did it matter? – and had to keep going. The number of times somebody better than him, somebody more deserving of life, had winked out of existence, while he had been able to do nothing about it. The number of times he'd had to watch as everybody around him broke because of it.

So Jack was neither surprised nor perturbed by the silence that separated him from the rest of his team, and he was thankful that the Rift had chosen these few days to calm down. Sending a team out when they weren't able to concentrate and co-operate was suicide. Jack knew that better than most.

Better to let them rest while they could, and investigate what few Rift spikes there were by himself. Give the rest of them time to recover, because they weren't quite as shut off from everything as he could be – as he was – when he needed to be.

His plan backfired somewhat when, after the first day, he found Ianto tagging along and, despite his insistence that he go alone, Jack knew there was no dissuading him. The silence between them was awkward but necessary, because any conversation would have been forced into a death, and there had been more than enough of that for the time being. Instead, they got the job done and returned to the Hub in equal hush, and when they spoke it was of mundane things – archival information, reports that were due, artefacts that needed analysing.

It wasn't until the third day that the silence broke.

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

Jack didn't even bother to glance up from the paperwork rested on the desk beneath his wrist. He had finally resigned himself to finishing the reports (UNIT didn't need another excuse to hate him, and Martha certainly didn't) that had been lying on his desk for so long now.

Expecting him to elaborate further, Jack kept silent, though he stopped writing, pen paused an inch above the paper. When none came, he put the pen down and looked up. Ianto wasn't meeting his eye.

"I gave the order," Jack said quietly. "I as good as killed them."

Ianto fingered the cuff of his right shirt sleeve. "I could have disobeyed."

It was only with this last statement that everything clicked into place. Ianto didn't blame Jack, because he was too busy blaming himself. It was like a return to the months following Canary Wharf – the fear of himself, the guilt, the withdrawal from everybody but the desperation to appear normal, with constant polite smiles and laughs that meant nothing. And Jack hadn't even noticed until now.

"Don't," he said, a clear warning in his voice.

"But I could have done." Ianto finally met Jack's gaze. "I didn't have to follow orders."

Jack swallowed. "I would have done it if you hadn't. They would have gone the same way, in the end."

"But it would have been an accident that way." Ianto's voice was hoarse.

"It was an accident."

"It wasn't." Ianto looked away. "When I was connected to their machine, there wasn't anything about them. Just floods of memories, so many thoughts that it physically hurt, Jack. That was all they were – echoes of somebody else. I knew what would happen as soon as I administered Retcon, and I still did it. So don't go saying I'm blameless."

Jack stared at him. "You wouldn't. They've altered your memories to think that. And even if you had–"

"I did. Jack. I wanted them to leave because I didn't know who was real and who wasn't, and because I was terrified. Because I didn't know what else to do. Even if you hadn't told me to, I would have Retconned them, because I was scared. Nothing more than that. Not angry, not upset, just...scared." His voice broke.

Jack cautiously stepped forwards and attempted to envelope the young man in a hug. They stood there for a few seconds before Ianto turned away.

"Right since the start, I've been trying to justify this to myself, telling myself it didn't matter if you didn't love me as much as I loved you, because you'd already loved more than I was ever going to, and that had to weigh up somehow. Sometimes I wondered what I was to you, if I mattered at all. But most of the time, I just told myself it didn't matter, because that was just how things were, and for a long while I think I accepted that as an excuse." He leaned back further against Jack's desk, not making eye contact with the captain. "But then something like this happens, and the questions start all over again. Only this time, they're directed at me. Because if you could tell in a matter of minutes that it wasn't really me, Jack, but I couldn't tell at all, then what does that make us?"

Jack waited until Ianto turned to face him to reply. "It's different."

"How is it different, Jack? You could tell, even though I must just be a blip in time for you. And I couldn't tell at all."

Jack stood up from his chair and walked around the desk until he was standing directly opposite Ianto. "Because you don't hide yourself like I do. How can you expect yourself to recognise whether or not it's really me, when you don't know me?"

Ianto looked up at him, the hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. "It's been two years, Jack. I think I might know you a little bit. Or at least be expected to."

"Why?" Jack's face was stern. "Why should you be expected to know things when I make sure never to let you find out? The reason I could tell it wasn't you was because I knew you better than they did. And you couldn't tell whether or not it was me because you hardly know me. Which makes it my fault, and not yours."

_Which makes it my fault that you were scared. And my fault that they died._ That bit remained unspoken.

"Do you always take the blame for everything?" Ianto asked, smiling somewhat despite himself.

"Only when it's my fault. So yeah, I do."

Ianto curled his fingers in Jack's hair. "What I do know about you...which bits are true?"

Jack exhaled. "Good question. Don't know. Besides," he continued with a pointed glance towards the younger man, "I could ask you the same question."

Ianto looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"While you were gone, Gwen had a talk with your sister. Debenhams? Really?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"I never said my father worked as a tailor," Ianto corrected, his voice oddly stiff. "I said he was a master tailor. Which he was."

"Your sister didn't seem to think so."

"My sister doesn't have much of an eye for suits," Ianto pointed out.

Jack smirked. "So what else do I not know about you, then?"

Ianto paused. "The shoplifting on my criminal record? I took the fall for a friend."

"So you're not a bad boy after all?" Jack pouted. "That's no fun."

Ianto smiled. "I never got caught for anything else. There's a difference." He paused. "Go on then."

"Hm?"

"Your turn."

Jack pulled a face. "Do I have to?"

Ianto looked upwards, mulling this over. "Depends. Do you want decaf for the next month?"

Jack sighed. "Okay, fine. Remember I swore I'd never had surgery?"

"I knew it!" Ianto laughed. "Nobody outruns time for that long."

"Actually, it was before I became immortal." Jack grinned. "I hit thirty and started seeing wrinkles."

Ianto tilted his head, scrutinising Jack's face. "Where?"

"Chin. Around the eyes." Jack attempted to shrug it off.

"Thirty? Thanks. Way to make me feel like I'm running on borrowed time, Jack."

"You're twenty-seven."

"Twenty-six."

"Even less reason to worry. Well, for you, anyway."

Ianto frowned at him. "Why, what have you got to worry about?"

"Cradle-snatching." Jack grinned wickedly. "Even without counting the two millennia spent buried under Cardiff, I'm two hundred years older than you."

"Wow."

"I know. Try getting a larger age gap than that."

Ianto smiled. "I didn't mean that. I meant, wow, you're actually volunteering information about yourself." He let another moment pass before adding, "I suppose there's still no getting your real name out of you?"

"Not in the foreseeable future."

"Am I allowed to ask why?" Ianto ran his fingers down the side of Jack's face. "Are you worried I'd Google you and find out things I'm not supposed to?"

"Like what, my brief stint as an e-hooker? You can find that without knowing my real name." Jack's grin widened, then fell. "Want to know another secret?" he asked quietly.

Ianto frowned slightly. "What?"

"I don't know it either."

* * *

It took nearly a week before business in the Hub returned to normality. Andy had just about forgiven Torchwood for locking him out in the freezing cold for six hours, though he still moaned about it at every given opportunity; Lois was quieter about it but still pursed her lips at the mention of the incident. Greg and Anna had both accepted it without further complaint, though the former seemed slightly shaken – understandable, given that he had seen himself liquefied. There seemed to be a sort of mutual understanding that they didn't bring up the subject, and in return Jack didn't repeat what Greg had accidentally inferred on the morning of the incident. By all accounts, he was still on Ianto's sofa, though he had been given his own key just in case Ianto decided to work later than expected. Again, it wasn't something that was discussed.

Not much was discussed as normal life – or what passed for it in Torchwood – resumed. Lois adopted a cat, which Jack supposed might be her way of dealing with things, while Martha disappeared back off to UNIT with barely a word, only to later send a letter of unspoken apology and a demand that Jack finish the reports before the end of the year. They even received an unexpected phone call from Gwen about how the baby was really kicking now and she was sure it was a boy even though she'd asked the nurses not to tell her. Rhys had wanted a boy anyway, to play football with, so that was all good – and wouldn't he make a fantastic dad at last?

But mostly it was quiet.

Jack kept expecting something to blow up or a spaceship to crash through Cardiff, or something of the sort – the paranoia was just part of working for Torchwood, or at least leading it. Ianto also seemed to expect something to happen all of a sudden. He had taken to checking the Rift monitors almost as routinely as Jack himself, scrutinising any potential activity, as well as updating the database almost daily with new information. Never anything big, just a vague idea that something might be connected with something else because of a shared aspect, and notes that it might be worth further investigation.

He was drawing similar conclusions on an artefact that had come through the Rift a year or so back when Jack appeared behind him. "Anything interesting?"

Ianto turned to him with a haunted look. "I checked up on the shop this morning."

Jack frowned. "Tell me it hasn't started again."

"Worse."

"Worse?"

"It's turning into a Starbucks."

Jack winced. "I'll make sure to call a boardroom meeting. Ten reasons why it's unwise to visit Starbucks while Ianto Jones is nearby."

"On that note," Ianto said hesitantly, "I think we should implement secondary duties of some sort."

"What's that got to do with Starbucks?"

Ianto shot him a withering look. "It hasn't got anything to do with Starbucks. I meant as a point to bring up at the next boardroom meeting."

Jack folded his arms. "How'd you mean, secondary duties?"

"If one of us gets incapacitated – or more than one of us – then we should have somebody to fill in. I mean, okay, we have Martha as a replacement medic when we need her, and Gwen does a decent job as leader when you're not there. But what about when Anna isn't able to help – who takes over as weapons officer then?"

"And without you, we'd never be able to find anything in the archives," Jack mused. "Point taken. I'll think about it." He paused. "Anything else?"

Ianto shook his head. "Nothing."

"I already sent the others home." There was a suggestive tone in Jack's voice, though that was nothing new.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Did you now?"

Jack grinned. Ianto didn't hear his reply, however – it was drowned out by a whirring sound from above.

Jack froze. "I know that sound."

"So do I." Ianto gripped Jack's arm tightly. "It was on the recording of the CCTV just before you left."

Jack looked at him as though torn.

"Don't you dare, Jack." It was a plea more than anything else.

Jack paused. "So come with me."

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**Remember to add Scarf Warriors! And review!**


	55. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 1

**New episode! One Good Reason is a collaborative episode, told from two points of view. This is mine, featuring Torchwood and the Thirteenth Doctor. Scarf Warriors' fic, of the same name, deals with the Twelfth Doctor and the aliens on the other side of the Rift. **

**He's an amazing writer, and has actually contributed a chapter to the Fourteen series already - the last chapter of Closing Time (not the epilogue)! I bet none of you even noticed. XD That said, I was reading through that episode the other day and I forgot until halfway through as well. =S **

**And I owe him credit for being a fantastic beta, as well. **

**Hope you enjoy!**

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The stretch of the bay surrounding the Plass was cold with chill November wind, gusts blowing fallen leaves through the city. The sky was dark with cloud and empty of stars, but that was expected in Cardiff. For a Saturday evening, it was strangely quiet – the only noise in the air was a soft whir, half-hidden in the breeze, as a police box slowly materialised beside the water sculpture.

A few moments later, a tall ginger man sporting a dark knee-length coat and black jeans stepped from the box, oblivious to an odd look from a passer-by walking her dog. Judging by the green scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, the man appeared prepared for the wintery Cardiff weather. In actuality, he always wore a scarf.

Did he? Jack frowned as he and Ianto observed silently from the pavement slab, the perception filter keeping them unnoticed. He knew that was what his Doctor had done, but this wasn't his Doctor. Not yet. The same incarnation, the last incarnation, but still incredibly young. The fact that Thirteen was even here was enough to convince Jack that he wasn't the Doctor's current companion – he wasn't the sort to risk paradoxes.

Jack watched as another figure stepped from the box, equally wrapped up in clothing. A woollen waistcoat hung down over a pair of breeches that were tucked neatly into a thick pair of boots, and her hands were shoved into equally thick gloves. The girl – possibly young woman, Jack couldn't quite tell under the layers of clothing – had her mousy hair cropped relatively short and hidden under a belted trilby. It was only as she turned to gaze at the sculpture that Jack caught a glimpse of the dark grey encircling her eyes.

It was then that he stepped from the platform, suddenly attracting the notice of passers-by. One in particular. Thirteen balked slightly at the sight of Jack, as though he hadn't expected him to be there – which was ridiculous, because this was Cardiff, in the 21st century, and Jack had more reason to be there than the Doctor did.

"Long time no see."

The Doctor frowned at him for a second, as though debating his options. "Is it?" he asked cautiously. "What's the date?"

"November 18th 2009," Jack replied, matching his frown. "Why?"

"Could've sworn I visited you recently."

"Not in my timeline."

The Doctor's frown deepened. "Maybe it's later on."

"I look forward to it." Jack grinned.

"And that's enough of that," Ianto interrupted, striding from the flagstone without a second thought. He regarded the ginger man with suspicion, but held out his hand nevertheless. "Ianto Jones."

The man nodded and shook his hand firmly. "I'm the Doctor."

"Jack's Doctor?" Ianto asked, as though needing confirmation.

"So Jack might like to think."

Jack grinned and leaned toward Ianto. "He's just in denial."

Both Ianto and the Doctor shot Jack dirty looks. Jack merely grinned and thrust his hand towards the Doctor's companion. "Captain Jack Harkness. Usually I'd insist on keeping the title, but with eyes like those, you can call me Jack."

"Jack." There was a clear warning tone in Ianto's voice. "Is she even legal age?"

"Because you've always been worried about age gaps." Jack raised an eyebrow. "And I was just saying hello."

"I've heard that before," the Doctor commented.

A genuine smile graced Ianto's face. "Several times a day."

"Well. Yes. This is Jack we're talking about."

"Very true."

Jack turned to face them with a look of mock annoyance. "Am I not allowed to say hello?"

"Not when statistically it's almost impossible to disregard the probability that you're already eyeing her up," the Doctor replied.

Jack paused, unsure whether or not to refute this statement.

"I'm Twitch." The girl ignored Jack's hand and held out her own to Ianto instead.

He took it and smiled. "Nice to meet you. Sorry, strange and possibly rude question to ask, but are you...alien? I mean, you look pretty human, but–" He gestured toward his own eyes.

"Collyrian," Jack answered, before Twitch had a chance. She glared across at him, and he grinned. "But don't worry, I won't hold it against you."

"Really." She didn't look impressed.

Ianto looked to Jack for an explanation. "What's a Collyrian?" He glanced back to her.

"A human," Jack said with a grin. "Essentially, just another of the human races from the future."

"Right." Ianto frowned.

"How do you know, anyway?" Twitch was frowning at Jack as well, but curiosity hid behind her gaze.

"He's not from around here any more than you are," the Doctor said. "51st century."

Twitch's eyes travelled Jack up and down again, reassessing him. "Whereabouts?"

Jack gave a slight smile. "Boeshane."

She nodded. "Does something happen?"

His smile fell. "How d'you mean?"

"To Boeshane. For you to be here. When I'm from, there's nothing wrong. Was there a war?"

"There were a lot of wars. But Boeshane's fine, last I heard. I just needed to get away." He paused. "When are you from?"

"I was born in 4912." She looked downward. Jack's knowledge of the history of Earth's colony planets wasn't as impeccable as that of Earth itself – and most of that had been firsthand. Even so, a warning glance from the Doctor told him it wasn't wise to question any further.

The four of them stood in an uneasy silence for a while before Jack spoke up again. "So, Doc. Any particular reason for visiting? Not that I don't appreciate just seeing you, but you usually have more of a purpose than just coming to gaze upon my pretty face."

Twitch muttered something under her breath that Jack couldn't quite make out. Ianto apparently heard well enough, though, as he struggled to conceal a snort of laughter.

The Doctor ignored both of them. "Well. Yes. Actually. The TARDIS took us here herself – quite ignoring where I wanted to go, but she gets like that sometimes, and I suppose she did have a good reason. There's a temporal schism–"

"The Cardiff Rift?" Ianto frowned, assuming that the rift the Doctor was nattering on about was the same one Torchwood worked with. "That's always been there."

The Doctor tilted his head. "Matter of perspective, that, actually. It's echoed back through time so that it seems to have always been there, but it was actually opened in 1869. There you go, history lesson for you. If you're going to play around with alien toys, you might as well learn a little bit about them. Right. Yes. Where was I?" He matched Ianto's frown for a second before brightening. "Oh yes. Temporal schism. Strange thing, that. Shouldn't technically exist at all, but then, neither should Jack, so let's not get into that discussion again."

He suddenly looked serious – or at least, as serious as a gangly ginger man in a clashing scarf could look. "This reality is splintering from history. Something happened, or is happening, that wasn't ever meant to happen – or at least, it wasn't meant to happen when it did happen. History is trying to rewrite itself, and quite frankly, it's buggering up my ship's systems. And she's not very happy about it, and neither am I."

"So there's a rift in time other than the actual Rift?" Ianto asked.

"Exactly." The Doctor beamed, as though he hadn't been expecting any lesser lifeforms to understand this.

"And you think we're to blame?"

"Nah, actually I just popped here for a cup of tea. Of course I think you've got something to do with it!" The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Not that I'd reject a cup of tea, by the way. But you lot–" He gestured at the city around them. "You lot always have something to do with it. 21st century, of course it'd be something to do with your lot. When it's a global crisis, blame the US. When it's universal, blame Britain."

Ianto looked affronted. "What did Britain ever do?"

The Doctor started counting on his fingers. "In no particular order – First World War, Boer War, NHS, Thatcher, Stonehenge, spam fritters, Benny Hill, comprehensive schools, and the demise of the bowler hat. And that's just the first twenty centuries."

"What's so great about bowler hats?"

"I don't suppose we'll ever know now, will we?" The Doctor glared at him.

Ianto didn't look sure whether he was meant to be insulted on behalf of Britain or worried on behalf of the clearly unhinged man in front of them. He settled on being bemused on behalf of everybody.

Jack, on the other hand, stood in front of the water sculpture and smirked. "For once, you've got the wrong guys. It's been quiet around here. We haven't done anything."

"Well go and do something, then, Whitehall don't pay you to just stand around looking pretty," the Doctor scolded.

Jack grinned. "They might once they see how good I am at it."

"Enough of that. C'mon, hurry up and fix history and then you can get back to your tea break or whatever it was you weren't doing."

Ianto frowned quizzically at the Doctor. "It's nearly midnight. Tea's at different times depending on which part of the country you're in, but I don't think anybody has it at midnight."

"I was saying tea to spare the ears of my companion, actually."

Jack took this as a cue to wink at the young woman. "I can give you all the details later."

She point-blank ignored him and tugged on the Doctor's jacket. "If we're not out of here by tomorrow, I'll be taking a pair of scissors to that scarf of yours. Just so you know."

"Don't be silly, Twitch," the Doctor replied matter-of-factly. "If we're not out of here by tomorrow, your brains will have melted into slush and you'll be incapable of even the thought process involved in cutting my scarf. But, duly noted." He straightened his scarf and cleared his throat. "Right then, Jack. Take me to your... base... thing."

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**Review! I wanna know what you think! And check out Scarf Warriors' fic, too!**


	56. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 2

**Okay, so I'm a minute or so late with the update, but I'm sure you'll forgive me. This chapter is looong. **

**And you know what? They're gonna get longer, hopefully. **

**Beta** **credit to Storms and Scarf, for a wonderful job as usual. Hope your headache goes away soon, Storms!**

**A reminder that Scarf Warriors' fic One Good Reason is running in parallel to this, and while you don't have to read both, there are going to be jokes that you won't get without reading both, as well as the fact that reading both sides makes the story enjoyable. Basically, you don't have to read both, but I think you should. ;D And leave reviews, too.**

**Enjoy!**

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The Hub lay in an enclosed silence, framed by the gentle whirring of technology. Quite what technology was making the noise, nobody was able to lay a finger on – it was background noise rarely noticed except in the deathly quiet of a still night, which meant that under usual circumstances only Ianto and Jack had the opportunity to hear it. Even then, both were usually too distracted to notice it, and when they did notice it, they never spoke of it. For Jack, it gave a renewed sense of nostalgia for the background hum of his cities and their spaceships, memories of travelling with the Time Agency – what few he had left – and with the Doctor, travelling alongside the delicate whisper of the TARDIS. For Ianto, it was a quietened version of the hum that his old coffee machine had made – the one he had left back with his old life in London. Lisa had borrowed it from a friend to make sure they had one to hand when they first moved in, and the friend had eventually given it to them as a gift, in exchange for a complimentary coffee every time they came to call. It was a comforting sound, though Ianto often found himself anticipating a bleep that never came, to inform him that the machine had done its work.

The secret of which of the machines in Torchwood contributed to the background hum was just another secret that had likely died along with Toshiko. She would have been able to point out not only which machines were humming, but when each of them had arrived at Torchwood, whether or not they had come through the Rift, what their designated purpose was, and even give an educated guess at which alien civilisation they were from. She'd probably have been able to stop them humming if she'd wanted to, but the background noise was just part of the Hub, part of Torchwood. Maybe she'd never noticed it.

Jack realised he was staring at her old workstation, and quickly shook himself away from his thoughts.

Ianto looked at him in concern. "Jack?"

"It's nothing." He forced a grin onto his face. "Think you can get the mainframe powered up and show the Doctor how to use it? Restricted access only on the database."

Ianto frowned, but nodded hesitantly. "I'll get on it." He knew that powering up the mainframe wasn't necessary – they kept it powered constantly, in case of an emergency. Jack usually only ever suggested such things as an excuse to distract him or get him to leave the room.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Restricted access? Are we forgetting something, Jack?" He reached inside his jacket and pulled what Jack recognised as a sonic screwdriver from his pocket.

"Not forgetting anything. Our computer system's deadlock sealed." Jack shot him a cheeky grin and turned to Twitch, who was standing protectively close to the Doctor – though who was protecting whom was debatable. "So, Doc with Ianto means that I'm left with the lovely assistant."

Twitch took a cautious step forward, her arms tightly folded across her chest.

The Doctor shot Jack a warning glance. "I want her back in one piece, Jack."

"Not to mention I'll be having words if she isn't," Ianto added.

Jack looked affronted. "What is it with you two and these unfounded accusations? Honestly, you'd think I'd shag anything that moved."

"You don't?" Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"I'm only halfway through the list so far."

"My mistake."

"Always." Jack grinned again and proffered a hand to Twitch. "So, a Collyrian. You must be pretty knowledgeable. Any good with alien tech?"

"Well-read doesn't mean knowledgeable, and don't stereotype. Alien by my standards, or by those of Earth?" The girl followed Jack up a short flight of metal stairs and round a corner to another set of workstations.

"Both, I should think." Jack lifted a small device from the closer workstation. It was long, thin and rectangular, with wooden grooves running all along it. "Came through the Rift a few weeks ago, but we haven't been able to trace its origin. Any idea?"

He held it out and she took it, lifting it up to the light and running her fingers down in between the grooves. Jack watched her expression as she examined it. There was no sign of recognition. "Another one came through about a year ago. Similar design."

"Can I see it?" Her response was just a moment too quick for Jack's liking. He had the unwanted feeling that something was lurking beneath her eagerness, but he trusted the Doctor's choice in companions. If he took them broken, then over their travels they grew and were fixed. Only sometimes, like him, they ended up broken in a different way.

Was it better that way? He often wondered. He'd been a different man before, but a worse one? More of a coward, certainly. Less reserved, perhaps. He wasn't sure it balanced out. And then, of course, there was the fact that he'd left the Doctor rather more immortal than he'd started out.

"Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once," he muttered. Shakespeare, as he recalled. He'd had plenty of time to read over the centuries, and was well-versed in the classics. Ianto had been surprised by this. But then, Jack reasoned, he'd hardly read at all before he met the Doctor. Not enough time on his hands. Too busy doing things.

Twitch cleared her throat and brought him back to the present with a slight jolt. He flashed her a grin. "I'll have Ianto dig it out for you later. Nobody else can make sense of his archiving system, else I'd do it myself."

"He's your archivist?"

"Among other things. You look surprised."

She smiled to herself. "Nothing. Just a reminder of home, I suppose."

Jack folded his arms and leaned back against the workstation with a grin. "Let me guess, your old job before the Doc whisked you away?"

She laughed. "Not quite. Just...dreams." She shook her head. "Anything else you want me to look at?"

"That really depends on what you want to look at," Jack replied, his voice suggestive. Catching sight of her expression, he quickly rectified. "Because we have vaults of uncatalogued space-junk downstairs."

"I'll take a look. See if there's anything I can identify." Her eyes gleamed. "Is space-junk a technical term?"

"Yeah. Torchwood deals with space-junk and the timey-wimey. That's our official duty. Says so on the contract." He grinned and led her off towards the vaults.

The Doctor frowned as he bent over the workstation. He squinted at the screen for a few seconds before whipping a pair of glasses from a jacket pocket – or at least, attempting to do so. In actuality, the first object he pulled out resembled a giant, mangled paperclip. He held it up, looked at it for a second, then replaced it and tried another pocket. This one yielded an ordinary screwdriver, and the next, a banana and a small reporter's notebook, spiral-bound with the front cover scrawled over in black biro. Another pocket offered a Poncho in a Pouch, while the next contained an outdated packet of jelly babies. It was only on the sixth attempt that the Doctor actually managed to find the glasses that he had been looking for.

It wasn't that he had too many pockets – you could never have enough pockets – but that he was getting rather forgetful in his old age. He didn't like to admit it, so he never did, but it had all been going downhill since he'd hit 1000. He concluded that he had accumulated so much knowledge that even his brain was incapable of containing it all, and had therefore begun forgetting what it deemed less important matters – one of which was evidently the contents of his pockets. He didn't like this theory for two reasons: firstly, the contents of his pockets were very important indeed; secondly, his brain was capable of understanding things beyond the comprehension of anyone else, so it was certainly large enough to recall a thousand years' worth of information.

The other theory was that he remembered perfectly, and that his pockets moved themselves around. Which would be just typical, having a sentient jacket that liked to confuse him. Then again, a sentient jacket sounded rather mad, which was why he rather preferred the theory. Things tended to be a little mad around the Doctor, and he took a strange sort of pride in it.

He adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and scowled at the screen. It looked like Torchwood had been busy since he'd last been here – or rather, since they last thought he'd been there, as obviously Torchwood had progressed slightly more in his timeline, being from their own future. Humans, particularly Torchwood, were backward, but they weren't _that_ backward. Yet despite their vast database of information, there didn't appear to be anything abnormal. He wondered what exactly Jack was restricting him from accessing.

Ianto took the silence as an opportunity to lead the conversation. "So, what is it that you're a Doctor of, exactly?" he asked.

The Doctor waved a hand and evasively answered, "Oh, all sorts, really."

"Technical?"

"Sometimes."

"Medical?"

"To a degree."

Ianto nodded and glanced up toward the staircase that Jack and Twitch were descending.

The Doctor shook his head slightly, before Ianto even opened his mouth. "I can't fix that."

"Have you tried?"

The Doctor paused. "I can't."

"Can't fix him, or can't try?"

"Either."

Ianto nodded again, though he didn't seem as though he were all there. "Does Jack know that?"

The Doctor turned away from the computer screen and faced Ianto square on. "He's a fixed point in time and space. Can't be changed. He's...fixed," he said, gesturing wildly and trying to think of a better way to phrase it that the young Welshman might understand. "Fixed. Stuck. Literally anchored into time and space."

"Doesn't look fixed to me," Ianto said quietly.

The Doctor stared at him.

"In fact, I'd go so far as to say he looked broken."

"If I could, I would," he said softly. "I can't."

"So you won't."

"I can't," the Doctor repeated, and turned back to the monitor before anything more could be said on the subject. "Now, your records seem clean. Nothing unusual there. Well. Not by Torchwood standards, anyway. There hasn't been anything unusual at all? No temporal anomalies or anything of that sort?" He watched Ianto's eyes closely, but there wasn't even so much as a flicker.

"New medic from seventy years ago who was held hostage outside of time, aliens cloning and impersonating Torchwood members, accidental genocide..." Ianto frowned. "Can't think of anything unusual by Torchwood standards, no."

"Ianto!" Jack called out as he approached. "Just taking Twitch down to look at the archives." He grinned. "You two getting along?"

Ianto recognised Jack's leer. "Not as well as you'd like."

The Doctor frowned. "We aren't?"

"Jack's definition of 'getting along' is 'willing to have sex'," Ianto explained.

"And there was me hoping for a threesome. Foursome with Greg? No? Worth a try." Jack grinned and winked at the Doctor. "Don't do anything I'd do. At least, not unless I'm there or you're filming it. Then you can go wild. Ianto, did you bring the CCTV back online?"

"I never turned it off."

Jack's lips quirked into a smile. "Better make sure we delete that later. Unless you want to give Gwen an early birthday present."

"I don't think she'd appreciate it as much as you might think, Jack."

"I'm fairly sure she would."

"Archives. Go." Ianto concealed a smile. "Make sure you don't disturb the filing system, I still need to catalogue that artefact later."

Jack sent him a mock salute, grinned, and headed off, leading Twitch alongside.

The Doctor turned to Ianto with a curious expression. "What artefact's this?"

"Just something that came through the Rift about a week back." Ianto shrugged. "Nothing interesting. Just a little wooden box. Harmless, as far as we can tell."

"Mostly harmless," the Doctor muttered. He smiled suddenly, although 'inane grin' might have better described it. "Any chance of a look?"

Ianto smiled. "If you like. It won't have anything to do with your temporal fracture, though. We got one like it last year, thought it was some sort of toy. It soaks up residual Rift energy like nobody's business, but it doesn't do anything with it. Just holds onto it."

"Like a bomb?" the Doctor suggested innocently.

"Or a solar panel." Ianto took the steps up to his workstation two at a time. The Doctor did the same as he followed.

Ianto stopped abruptly before the desk. It was neatly organised, with paper filed into trays and pencils herded into pots and desk tidies. There was a distinct lack of any wooden artefact. "I left it on here." He ran a hand through his hair and picked up the communicator that was lying on the workstation, clearly assuming Jack wasn't stupid enough to head down to the lower levels without wearing his own. "Jack, did you move the wooden box from my desk?"

A crackle before the reply. "Didn't touch it. Why?"

"Because it's not here."

"Huh. I could've sworn I put it back. I'll help you look for it later. Is it urgent?"

Ianto shook his head, though Jack couldn't see. "No. Okay. See you later." He removed the comm from his ear and placed it back on the table.

"Place as big as this, things must go missing all the time," the Doctor commented.

Ianto nodded, but didn't reply. He peered underneath a pile of paper and then checked to see if it had fallen underneath the desk. No sign. He sighed and straightened up to find the Doctor watching him. He waited a second and, when it was clear that the other man didn't intend to speak, asked, "Where were you?"

"I've been a lot of places. You'll have to be more specific."

"Earlier this year. When the 456 invaded."

The Doctor shrugged. "Somewhere."

"Not here." Ianto swallowed. "Jack was waiting for you, I could tell. We could all tell. His mysterious Doctor, the one that always saved the world, and when we needed him, he wasn't anywhere to be seen."

"Maybe you just weren't looking in the right places," the Doctor replied. "Besides, you look like you escaped pretty unscathed."

"I died."

The Doctor regarded him for a moment. "You look well."

"It's a Torchwood requirement, not quite dying. First Jack, then Owen, Greg, and now me. Never quite dead. That should be our motto." There was a tiredness to his voice.

"You don't look dead. You don't even look not quite dead."

"Jack brought me back."

The Doctor stared at him. When he spoke, his voice was a dark growl. "Jack did _what_?"

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**EDIT: Mark has informed me that you DO have to read both fics. So go read his, too. It's worth it, honest. **

**Also, we've hit 500 REVIEWS! Thank you all! This is amazing!**


	57. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 3

**I finished this literally ten minutes before 9, which is why the update is a little late. Exhilarating, though I know I shouldn't procrastinate so much. I'm going to keep writing now, actually. I ought to be getting 4K words a day. This was only half of that. **

**From this point on, you really need to be following Scarf Warriors' fic "One Good Reason" as well. I didn't realise it'd be necessary so early on, but a review last chapter made me realise. Because sometimes things will happen on this end of the story, such as the box disappearing, that won't ever get resolved unless you also read Scarf's fic. And it will be important for plot purposes later on.**

**Enjoy, and special love to FryConfesses for being such a supportive sweetie, and to Scarf Warriors for betaing this and putting up with my hellish demands all the time.**

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The archives filled three of Torchwood's lower floors, though the top two were rarely used; as the institute had progressed, and they found more 'space-junk' (as Jack so affectionately called it), they had moved from the original archive to the floors below. Not that any of the current area in use was the original archive – that had been in an abandoned warehouse basement in London, as he recalled. Regardless, the archives continued to grow steadily downwards, and it was a good thing that nobody had ever reached the bottom of the Hub, because over time they would need the space.

Jack had tried finding his way to the bottom of the Hub once, back at the start of the new millennium. It started as a general clear-up, progressed to walking off the survivor's guilt (he was so very good at it by then), and eventually became an exploration of the area that had become his all of a sudden. It hadn't been his – it quite obviously hadn't been his; he could hardly point out whose desk was whose. Not that it mattered at the time. But of course it mattered – it never stopped mattering, because none of them deserved to be forgotten. The top floor, the reception area and the medical bay had been familiar. Far too familiar, given the circumstances. As a freelancer, he was there perhaps once a week. More than he ever used to be there, though he couldn't say if that were for better or for worse.

For better, because it meant that some of the rooms – the office, the boardroom, the archives – were unfamiliar to him, and so they didn't sting quite as much when he entered. For worse, because he didn't know the team well enough to preserve every memory that needed to be preserved. He'd spent more than a month just walking around, trying to see everything but touch nothing. But of course, he needed to touch, because he was Jack and that was just how he was. He needed to trace the outline of their photographs to remind himself that not so long ago, they existed – to imprint them forever on his memory. He was a hoarder of memories, of trinkets, of photographs and letters of people long dead.

But the memories were his territory alone. None deserved to be prized above any others, and since there wasn't time to talk about them all, Jack chose not to talk about any of them. He hid the memories behind his expression, the photographs in his vault, the letters in his desk drawer underneath layers of reports and post-it notes, and the trinkets – the trinkets came here. The archives were their final resting place, somewhere the memories could be preserved forever. They lay hidden among the other objects, gathering up residual Rift energy that hung in the room, making them indistinguishable from the alien artefacts. Nobody knew that they were different, that they were special. Only Jack.

Even Twitch didn't appear to notice as he guided her through the vast room. Shelves towered over them in every direction, piled with boxes stuffed to the brim – each of them, in their turn, neatly labelled with a number and a description. It had been a joint effort between Ianto and Toshiko, organising the computer system so that the number could be used to identify a detailed list of the contents of the box, its origins, level of potential threat, and the date the objects came through the Rift. Lots of the artefacts had been here since before either of them had been recruited, many of them with missing 'Rift birthdays' as Ianto called them. It wasn't difficult to hide the trinkets that had never come through the Rift in the first place.

"All of this comes through the Rift?" Twitch asked, peering over the side of a box on the shelf that was closest to eye-level.

Jack gave a firm nod. "Yep. Most of the time, it's an object of some sort, but occasionally we get actual aliens coming through. We call them Weevils. Vicious things, all sharp teeth and claws. High foreheads and deep-set eyes – very primeval. Not unlike our old medic, actually. They also come through wearing plastic boiler suits, for reasons we've never quite been able to fathom."

He stepped to the side, pulling an ovular metal object from a box marked with a large red '2'. Not harmful at all. Well, not much, anyway – after a few years of working for Torchwood, you realised that everything was harmful to some extent. That was the reason the numbering system went up rather than down. Some of the objects couldn't become any less of a threat (although there had been one or two objects that had been labelled '0.5' – a china saucer that had curiously come through the Rift one February, as well as a clump of feathers that might have been an alien bird before the Rift took it – that were even less harmful than the items marked '1') whereas there could always be something worse, more dangerous. Originally, the scale had been from one to ten. As time wore on, and the Rift threw more and more interesting artefacts at them. It now ranged from 0.5 to 83. The highest score belonged to a cube that emitted a strange new form of radiation when in contact with oxygen. It had its own containment chamber with 'VIP' scrawled over it in the jest of a red marker. Owen, probably. Possibly Ianto, or even Gwen. It was difficult to tell in the archives. They belonged to all of Torchwood – were all of Torchwood, in a way.

Jack handed her the metal ovoid and waited patiently for some sort of reaction. "D'you recognise it?"

She shook her head, eyes fixated on the strange gleam of the object in the overhead light. She passed it between her fingers to her other hand, stroking it absent-mindedly, fingers soft but firm on its surface. The metal was gently textured, catching her fingerprints as she fiddled with it. "Where does it come from?"

"Another Earth colony, we think. Try sliding it apart."

The ovoid had no obvious grooves or fractures in its shell, but when she followed his instructions, it split cleanly in two, joined on an invisible hinge. Inside were several tiny spheres, like marbles, looped together by thin wire like a spider's web, on a padded base indented to hold all of them plus one more. Tentatively, she reached for the middle sphere and tried to pick it up. The wires tautened, but the sphere hardly moved.

Jack grinned and leaned over, directing her fingers toward a sphere on the left. "You have to start with this one." He closed her fingers around it and moved it across to the empty space. The wire pulled the other spheres into different indents than the ones they had previously occupied, leaving a new gap.

Grasping the basic concept, Twitch tried moving some of the other spheres until one agreed to fit into the gap. Again, the wires pulled the other spheres into new indents, and another empty space was left behind. A smile lit up Twitch's face. "It's a game."

A firm, pleased nod from the Captain and she pulled another sphere across. After that, she made several attempts in vain, four spheres refusing to budge. On the failure of the fifth sphere, the egg snapped shut. Twitch shrieked and fumbled with the object in her hands, desperately trying to stop it from falling to the floor. It slipped through her fingers.

Jack bent forwards and deftly caught it in his hand. He grinned up at her. "Five wrong moves and it's game over."

"Do you know how to play?" She was smiling shyly now.

"Not a clue. Ianto thinks there must be at least a hundred moves involved – see how the wires cross over each other? They're all separate by the end, or so we think. We've made it to nineteen before it snapped shut. Team record's held by Lois. Twenty-seven. There's gotta be a logic to playing it, but none of us have figured it out."

"You should show it to the Doctor. He might be able to solve it."

Jack shook his head, holding his grin. "And have him solve it in a few seconds flat? More fun to puzzle it out ourselves, don'tcha think?" He took it back from her and popped it back in its cardboard container. "Besides, he'd get all righteous and snarky about it and call us backwards for not knowing how to solve it."

At that moment, the door of the archive flew open. It was beyond the line of sight, hidden behind shelves, but Jack knew it had been thrown open from the sheer force with which it slammed against the wall. He heard something crack, or it might just have been a harsh footstep. Ianto was still wincing when he and the Doctor rounded the corner into view.

There was no fury evident on Thirteen's face, but it was no less dangerous for that. His glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose without him pushing them back up, probably as a result of barrelling in here all of a sudden. His hair, too, was messy, as though a hand had run through it repeatedly. It wasn't tousled in the way that Jack was familiar with it being. It was as wild as the eyes resting below it. "You'd better have a bloody brilliant excuse, Jack," he breathed.

Jack's jaw jutted out instinctively, proclaiming his defiance. "For what?"

"For me." Ianto stood behind the Doctor, his crisp suit at odds with the Doctor's blatant disregard for his own appearance. He straightened his tie, not even aware of the movement of his fingers. It was, Jack supposed, second nature to him by now. His quirk didn't mask the emotion in his eyes – confusion, mostly. A little terror, worry, protectiveness. More concerned about Jack than himself, as usual.

"How'd you mean?"

The Doctor lunged forward, his face an inch away from Jack's. His own jaw was set, his eyes ablaze with fury. One hand was clenched by his side, brushing against his jeans – Jack was momentarily distracted by the prospect of the Doctor in tight denim – the other constricted in an accusatory finger far too close to his face for Jack's comfort.

"You brought him back." The Doctor's voice was low, deadly, seething.

Jack tightened. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play games with me, Jack Harkness." The Doctor pressed forward to combat Jack's subtle step backwards. "You brought him back. You broke the rules and BROUGHT HIM BACK."

They were too close for whispers to be heard by anybody else by this point. Jack stared down at the Doctor – even pressed up tense against him, the other man stood some inches shorter. "Like you've never tried to save anyone," he said softly.

"Not the same," the Doctor snarled. "Not the same at all, Jack." He broke away with a sudden jerk, as though a volt of electricity had passed between them. "You tried playing the game without the rules, and you broke them. And now all of history is paying for it. Was he worth it, Jack? Worth rewriting history for?" He exhaled suddenly and sharply. "Because that's what you've done. Temporal anomaly. It's him. You brought back a dead man and now this timeline is wrong. And this world – this world, Jack – is going to _burn_ with the consequences."

"Then why aren't there Reapers here?" Jack demanded, taking a step of his own and closing the distance between him and the Doctor. "If this history is wrong, then why aren't they trying to fix it?"

"How can they, Jack?" he challenged. "How can they, when it's you they're up against? You're wrong, Jack, wrong in time. A flaw they can't fix. They won't come anywhere near you, because you're the only being alive who could wipe them out of existence. And if that doesn't terrify you, then it should. Because if you can meddle with time and not pay for the consequences, then the rest of the world has to pay for you. And I won't let that happen. You're going to fix this. Right now."

"What do you want me to do? Shoot him?" Jack glared at the ginger man. "What right do you have to say which history is the right one?"

The Doctor was incensed. "I'm a Time Lord, Jack. Lord of Time. I know things you couldn't even begin to comprehend, and I know when something is _wrong_."

"Like you knew I was wrong?" Jack intended the words as daggers, knew the Doctor's secret – his _lie_ – about that.

The Doctor watched him for a moment. "You weren't wrong like that. And even if you were, nothing I could do would make you right."

"I wasn't wrong at all," Jack growled. "For the first time in lifetimes, you had somebody who didn't have to answer to you. I'm above your authority, Doctor, and that _terrifies_ you!"

Words fell empty between them, dying on their lips before even reaching the air. The tension became palpable, unbearable. Finally, Ianto spoke up, not quite meeting the Doctor's eye as he did so. "How would we go about repairing history, exactly?"

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**Hope you enjoyed that! **

**Please leave a review, and remember to read Scarf's side of the story if you haven't already - and review that, too! He cries otherwise!**


	58. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 4

**The chapter is late, I'm ill, and life is not going well. I'm sorry. I'm stressed. **

**Thanks to Scarf Warriors for the beta - go read his chapter; you're going to need it to make sense of some of this stuff.**

**A quick note for those of you who have read neither my nor CC's Thirteenth Adventures fics - Molly was a companion of Twelve. She got shot by a Dalek. She was also ginger. This isn't overly important, but there's a reference to her in this chapter, so I just thought I'd fill you in.**

**I'm not pleased with this chapter, to be perfectly honest. But I hope it's okay. There won't be an update tomorrow. Might not be on Sunday either, actually, because I'm off to MCM expo (anyone else going?) and might be late getting home.**

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The Doctor looked at Ianto in surprise. This was something new, something he hadn't seen or perhaps noticed before. The young man was stepping up, volunteering his life for all he knew, to fix a history that he hadn't previously been aware was even broken. And that was so, so human.

Unfortunately, that made it very, very difficult to let him go through with what the Doctor knew had to be done. Here was a brave young man willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good – the sort of person that most deserved to live. And here was his gut instinct telling him that he couldn't.

It was made even worse by the clear dynamic between the young Welshman and Jack. God, Jack. The Doctor exhaled sharply. If history rewrote itself, and Ianto was no longer there, Jack might just kill him. It wasn't beyond his power – something that Jack had evidently started to figure out. He _was_ above his authority, and it _did_ terrify him. He wasn't about to let on, of course, but the fact remained just that. Whether it had been Ianto or some other factor – and the Doctor had the niggling feeling a lot of it had been down to Ianto – Jack had grown a startling amount at Torchwood. Possibly more than he'd ever grown when he'd been travelling with him.

Before, his companions had been playful little things, so very human (even if sometimes they weren't), people that he watched over and looked after. Adopted children, because he'd never quite gotten over having fatherhood ripped from him. He wanted a family, and he'd started it on planet Earth. Biology didn't matter. Just the idea, the knowledge that he touched their lives, that they never forgot him, that for generations they'd be telling their children tales of their adventures with the Doctor. He supposed, looking back on it, that he'd just wanted to create some sort of legacy to leave behind him.

Jack had never been quite like that.

For a start, he'd always played the hero (even back when he was a coward) – the one who saved the day and got the girl. Or boy. Or alien. He had never been a true companion, not in the usual sense. He had never been content to let the Doctor lead, had never obeyed instructions, had lived by his own rules. Rather like the Doctor himself, actually. He frowned. Not sure he liked that thought.

It was rather true, though. It was evident that Torchwood had gone from being an 'institute' to Jack's own little family. A dysfunctional family, but family nonetheless. And while the Doctor was guilty of the same, he did it out of loneliness. And if that was Jack's reasoning as well, he expected that taking Ianto from him might be met with rather considerable backlash.

Jack was watching him now, his body leaning toward Ianto's, making it clear that he wouldn't allow the Doctor to so much as touch the young Welshman. Because Ianto was his family, and the Doctor didn't have the right to take him away – not in his eyes. No-one did. Nothing. Not even death. Between Jack's selfishness and Ianto's selflessness, the Doctor wasn't sure which one was more human.

"Well?" Ianto asked, his eyes daring to meet the Doctor's at last. "How do we fix it?"

"We don't."

Jack raised an eyebrow, though his frown was still visible. "A second ago you were–"

"I know." The Doctor regarded him. "And aren't you glad I changed my mind?" He smiled suddenly.

"No," Jack said slowly, "because now I'm worried you're going to do something else I won't like. You don't just go back on your word like that."

"Well. I do. Evidently." He rolled his eyes. "You're just paranoid, Jack."

"Around you? Always."

Ianto's eyes were still trained on the Doctor. "Jack's right. Nobody just does a u-turn like that. What are you planning?"

"Well. Still waiting for that tea break, actually." The Doctor's smile was bright but false.

Jack saw through it in an instant. "Nice try. What're you up to? The Doctor I know would stick to his guns."

"I'm not the Doctor you know."

"Wanna bet?" Jack asked softly.

The Doctor frowned at him. So did Ianto.

"You have a bizarre obsession with bananas, but you can't stomach them anymore. You wear jeans because you've never done it before and because you want to be someone different. You're running away from your past, just like you always do. You always used to complain about wanting ginger hair but now you're not sure what to do with it. You sometimes put your glasses on the back of your head because you think you have nice ears in this incarnation. You've been from one end of the universe to the other but still haven't found the perfect frozen yoghurt. You're afraid of your own mortality but even more afraid of everyone else's. There's a small beetle in your seventh pocket and a miniature ring-binder in the twenty-fourth," Jack recited. "And you're still blaming yourself for her death."

The Doctor stiffened. "Am not." He paused and pursed his lips. "And how would you know, anyway? I haven't visited here before, have I? Wait. No. Even if I had, I wouldn't tell you half of that. Particularly not the contents of my pockets – that's private information."

Jack smirked and stepped closer. "You've told me quite a bit of private information."

"When?"

"All across time and space."

The Doctor's eyes widened as he realised what Jack was implying. "Wait, what, when? Why?"

Jack shrugged. "You were bored. And lonely." A moment's silence. "And because you didn't want to be responsible for it anymore."

He didn't need to clarify what 'it' was, because the Doctor already knew. After watching Molly slaughtered in front of him, and not being able to do a thing, after waking up with a constant reminder of her whenever he saw his own reflection, he'd told himself enough was enough. However lonely he was, he couldn't justify letting his companions lose their lives. Not for his sake.

Which was probably exactly how Jack felt about Ianto. Hadn't he said that Jack had been waiting for the Doctor? That almost certainly meant that in end, Jack had been forced to make the decision that had resulted in the death of Ianto Jones. The Doctor didn't know the details. He wasn't sure that he wanted to.

Jack had probably dealt with more than his fair share of people dying in front of him. Because of him. It wasn't difficult to understand why he had refused to let another add to the count. The Doctor couldn't blame him. If he were able to save one, he probably would have done. He was getting sick of all the death and disaster that followed in his wake. In actuality, he had been instructing the TARDIS to take Twitch home when the temporal fracture had pulled her here instead. Perhaps that was why he decided to travel with Jack at some point in the future – after all, he was the only companion the Doctor would ever have that would never die on him. He might die on Jack, but hopefully not for a while yet. Maybe that was why Jack had grown so attached to him in return – the Doctor was probably the closest thing that he had to a constant of his own.

A bleeping sound emitted from the strap on Jack's wrist.

Ianto eyed the device with suspicion. "That better not mean what I think it does."

Jack grinned. "Relax. I attuned it to the Rift predictor so that I can monitor Rift activity even when...distracted." Ianto noticeably coloured. "Looks like we've got a Weevil on our hands. Heaven forbid we'd actually have a quiet night in otherwise."

"Another one?" Ianto frowned. "What's that, the sixth this week? And they're getting more vicious, too . I'll be covered in new scars by the end of the week."

"Not convinced you can blame those on the Weevil," the Doctor commented, smirking.

Beside him, Twitch looked eagerly up at Jack. "Are these the Weevils you mentioned earlier?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Wanna come along? Usually, Weevil hunting's just for me and Ianto, but if you're good we might let you use a can of spray." He grinned.

Twitch scowled. "I'm not a child, Jack."

"Well, that's good," Ianto muttered as he pulled a can of the spray from inside his jacket pocket and threw it to her. "I'd rather not be responsible for a child being mauled by a vicious alien."

The Doctor caught the remark. "Vicious? What sort of aliens have you got roaming Cardiff, Jack?"

Jack's grin widened. "Come see."

* * *

Minutes later, all four of them were tucked into the SUV. Jack was driving, as expected, with Ianto sat beside him, a laptop that was more screen than keyboard snug on his lap. It wasn't an actual laptop, of course; Torchwood was well past that technology. Instead, it was a wireless connection to the Hub database, complete with Rift monitoring software – completely safe from outside interference, though Ianto wasn't sure how. Doubtless something to do with alien tech.

As he zoomed in on the graphic display, Ianto saw a small dip in Rift activity just before the current surge that suggested a Weevil. This wasn't unusual – far from it – except that the small dip was enough to take the figures into negatives. He checked his watch. "Jack, we had a negative Rift blip about twenty minutes ago."

Jack veered the SUV around a corner. "Whereabouts?"

"According to this, within a mile radius of the Hub. I can't pinpoint the location and keep the current Weevil coordinates onscreen at the same time." He paused and skimmed back across the graph. "Wait. Hang on a second... There are lots of negative Rift spikes. Tiny ones, usually just before a Weevil came through."

"Pull the data up later," Jack instructed. "Right now, we've got a Weevil to catch."

"Will this require another trip to Flatholm, d'you think? Because I'll need to phone Helen if that's the case."

Jack took his eyes off the road for a second and shot Ianto an irritated glance. "At midnight?"

"Advance notice," Ianto replied, somewhat defensively.

Behind them, the Doctor frowned. "What's Flatholm?"

"Flatholm Island. Used to house a sanatorium for cholera patients, became derelict in 1935. Bought by Torchwood in 1993 and renovated into a care home."

"A care home," the Doctor repeated. "A care home for who?"

"Those that come back through the Rift."

The Doctor glared at Jack through the rear-view mirror. "You shove them on an island and keep them herded in a little building?"

"What else are we supposed to do?" Jack asked. "We can't send them back through the Rift."

"And it's better than a bullet through the head," said Ianto, thinking of Greg's explanation of how Torchwood had used to work.

"Yeah. And trust me, I'd know." Jack grimaced and slammed on the brakes at the start of a narrow lane – there was no way that the vehicle would ever fit through the gap. They would have to follow the Weevil on foot. Luckily, according to the Rift activity coordinates, it wasn't that far away.

Jack clicked open his door and stepped out, pulling a set of handcuffs and a hood from his coat as he did so. Ianto and Twitch followed his lead, each holding a can of spray, while the Doctor just eyed them all cautiously.

"So where is this Weevil, then?" he asked. "What kind of a name is a Weevil, anyway?"

"Better than Janet," Ianto murmured.

Jack shot him a look. "Really? I liked the name Janet."

"Says the man who named a pterodactyl 'Myfanwy'."

Jack didn't respond to this; he'd spotted the Weevil crouching at the end of the street, snarling at a post-box. Subconsciously mimicking its movements, Jack bent toward the ground as he approached. Ianto skirted around the other side, hoping to corner it between the two of them and quickly subdue it.

The Weevil noticed them approach and bared its teeth in a primal growl.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Hang on a second, that's not a Weevil. That's a Preidoxhylorian!"

Jack, momentarily distracted by this outburst, glanced toward the Doctor and was caught off-guard by a frantic, furious swipe from the Weevil. Its claw raked his cheek, drawing blood. Ianto released a continuous surge of spray for several seconds until the Weevil was momentarily stunned and Jack had recovered enough the quickly tug the hood over its head and secure its arms with the handcuffs.

As he bent to drag it over his shoulder, Ianto noticed a scrap of paper scrunched within its left claw. He gently pulled it free, taking care not to rip it. The paper was torn and crumpled anyway, but still readable. At least, it would have been, had it been in English. He didn't know why he expected it to be – there were thousands of languages on Earth alone, so the chance of an alien writing a message in English – or even in Welsh – was pretty minute, even assuming that they were directing the message toward Earth in particular. He recognised the lettering, though.

Jack looked at him quizzically. "What does it say?"

"I don't know, I think it's Greek."

"Greek?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I recognise some of the symbols. There are only a couple of lines, and a drawing of a police box."

Jack's eyes widened and he practically snatched the note from Ianto's hand. "Love from Nadrin," he read, more easily than he had been able to for some time. Apparently the ease with which he was able to translate alien languages was relative to his proximity to the TARDIS – or possibly to the Doctor, to whom he turned with a hint of accusation in his expression. "Wasn't Nadrin one of your companions?"

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**You're gonna need to read Scarf Warriors' fic to make sense of this story. You have been warned. **


	59. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 5

**Okay, so it's two hours late and still incomplete, but you know what? I'm proud of it. **

**I spent the past several hours writing this, and it's late because I was out filming. Which I'll be doing four days this week. BUT at least I know the timings now, so I can get to work on this at the right time to finish for a 9pm update. **

**Credit to Scarf for betaing, and also for managing to finish his chapter roughly on time, which is better than I could do. Whoops?**

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The Doctor scratched his chin. "Back in my twelfth incarnation, yeah." His eyes suddenly widened. "Oh. Oh. _Oh_."

"Auditioning for Santa?" Jack smirked. "You need more of a beard. Actually, no. Don't grow a beard. That would just look...wrong."

The Doctor didn't seem to have heard. That, or he wasn't paying attention. "Well. This...quite probably is definitely not good. Or definitely probably isn't good. Or both. Probably not neither."

Jack frowned at him. "Let me guess. You remember her sending this note, and it means we're all about to die."

"No. Well. Possibly about to die. I don't remember her sending that note at all. Which probably means something worse."

"Worse than us about to die?" Ianto stared at him.

"Yes."

"How? Do I want to know how?"

The Doctor suddenly looked very serious. "I don't forget things like that. I just...don't. Which means something forced me to forget. Which..." He looked at Jack. "Well, it's probably not good."

Jack was frowning at this point, his lips parted slightly and head turned slightly to one side. It was an expression that Ianto knew well – Jack was trying to work out whether or not he'd drawn the right conclusion to something. From where Ianto was standing, there weren't any logical conclusions to be drawn, so either Jack knew something he didn't, or – no, Jack definitely knew something he didn't.

A grin slowly crept onto Jack's face. "Twice the fun."

"No. Jack. No." The Doctor looked at him sternly.

"Will somebody please tell me what everybody else but me seems to know?" Ianto asked, getting a little impatient.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "That might take several millennia."

"Hey, don't underestimate the coffee boy," Jack advised. "Torchwood's finest."

"Well. Like I said. Several millennia." He caught Jack's glare. "Oh, fine. But if I have to start explaining everything backwards, we'll be here for days."

"Then explain it forwards," Ianto said tersely. "I assure you I can follow. I've been working for Torchwood for nearly five years, and I'm not as much of an idiot as you seem to think."

The Doctor shook his head. "You've got the causality wrong there. I think you're an idiot _because_ you work for Torchwood. Namely, under him." He pointed at Jack without looking.

Jack looked affronted. "You said I was an improvement on Yvonne Hartman."

Ianto shot him a sidelong glance. "That's really not saying much, Jack."

"Moving on." The Doctor glared at the two of them and paused, facing Ianto. "Time isn't linear, but timelines are. They can criss-cross each other, but they can't cross themselves. At least, they're not meant to. When my timeline crosses itself, I lose my memory. It's a side-effect, to prevent my past self knowing my own future. So if I can't remember that letter being sent, then it's probably because I've met my past self. Well. Will meet. Am about to meet."

"Right. And that's...a bad thing?" Ianto tried.

The Doctor pulled a face. "Yes and no. Usually, there's a good reason behind me meeting myself. Unfortunately, I don't remember what it was, and I won't remember what it is. Also, I usually don't get on with myself."

"Freud would have a field day with you," said Jack.

"Freud _did_ have a field day with me."

Jack grinned. "Yeah, but you didn't inspire him to write a book."

"I helped him _write_ the book," the Doctor countered.

Ianto cleared his throat loudly. "So are we going to move this Weevil, or not?"

"I told you, that's not a Weevil. That's a Preidoxhylorian."

"And what exactly is a Prey-docks-whatever-it-was-you-said?" Ianto asked, with one eyebrow raised.

The Doctor pointed. "One of those."

Ianto regarded him. "Funny. I'd have given the same definition for a Weevil."

"Well, you're Torchwood," the Doctor replied, with no small amount of scorn. "Since when have you been the experts on all things alien?"

"Are you going to help lift, or not?" Ianto asked, hoisting the Weevil's feet onto his shoulder.

Jack smirked. "Allow me. I'm good where lift is concerned."

Twitch was more focused on observing the Weevil, taking notes down on a small metal notebook-like device that she had pulled from a pocket, sketching it with the tip of her finger. However, even she looked up at this last comment. She turned to the Doctor with an accusing stare. "You said it would take a day for my brains to melt into slush around this lot. It hasn't been a day yet."

"Well. There's a chance my brain had already begun melting into slush by that point, so that I was unable to correctly attribute the timeframe. You'll have to forgive me."

"I'm not sure I have enough brainpower left to do that," Twitch replied, deadpan.

There was a groan from behind as Ianto and Jack heaved the Weevil/Preidoxhylorian into the back of the SUV. Jack brushed his hands together. "Right then. There's that done with. Back to the Hub?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Actually, I think the TARDIS would be a better bet right now. I can monitor the temporal activity around the Bay, see if I'm anywhere near me."

Ianto looked at him strangely. "Between you and Jack, my knowledge of the English language is crumbling under tensing I never knew existed and a bizarre lack of understanding of the proper use of pronouns."

The Doctor looked at him even more strangely. "Is now a good time to mention that I'm not speaking English?" He frowned. "I'm also rather disappointed that you're not hearing me in Welsh. I like Welsh. Nice language to be perceived as speaking in."

"If you were speaking in Welsh, I wouldn't understand you." Ianto smiled. "My Welsh vocabulary extends to about thirty words."

The Doctor looked rather disappointed by this. "Oh. Well. Maybe next time." He grimaced. "Anyway. Shall we off?"

* * *

The inside was striking – huge blocks of solid colour decorated each wall, each bathed in a hazy light that was no colour of its own, but instead ignited the blues, reds and whites into a soft mauve. The design was simultaneously both alien and childish. In the centre, a large console stood proud, suspended by the same glass column that contained the light.

The Doctor strode backwards in front of them, his arms flung open, wide as the grin on his face. "Welcome to the TARDIS."

Twitch ducked beneath one of his arms and slunk to stand at the side of the TARDIS, slinging her hat and scarf across one of the pegs that protruded from the wall as she did so.

Ianto tentatively followed Jack into the main hub of the ship. Jack leaned against the central console with a small smile, and Ianto could have sworn he heard a whispered 'hello'.

"Well?" The Doctor looked at him expectantly.

Ianto blinked. "Well what?"

"Well, aren't you going to make some comment about it being bigger on the inside?"

A small smirk escaped Ianto. "I'm rather used to things being bigger on the inside."

The Doctor sidestepped between Ianto and Twitch, blocking her from his sight. "Still trying to spare the ears of my companion, thank you. Underage and all that."

Ianto peered over his shoulder at the girl who, for all her youth, did not look underage. She also didn't look disturbed or even bothered by the comment. In fact, Ianto got the distinct impression that she wasn't listening to the conversation. "Really? She doesn't look a day under eighteen to me."

"Nineteen, by Earth reckoning," the Doctor replied, a rather rude and patronising tone to his voice, "but still underage where she's from."

"I don't see why," Twitch said sullenly. Obviously she was listening after all. "Books and robots, there's not much to have sex _with_. Pretty dull planet for that sort of thing."

"I dated a robot once. Seven limbs, each of–"

"Jack." The Doctor glared at him. "D'you mind?"

"Not really." Nevertheless, he dropped the subject.

Ianto cleared his throat and took another glance around the TARDIS interior. It was probably at least twelve times as big as its outside, and that was just the room that they were stood in – the walls were populated by doors that implied the ship extended even further. Somehow. "How does it work?"

"Hm?" The Doctor spun around. It took him a moment to realise that it was Ianto that had spoken. "Oh. Right. Well. Dimensional transcendence."

"Is that alien for 'don't have a clue'?"

"No, it's alien for something far too advanced for backward little humans to comprehend."

Ianto's jaw jutted out defensively. "Try me."

"The inside and the outside exist on different planes of matter. Different dimensions that don't interact but that are connected through this ship."

Ianto took a second to mull this over. "So, what's on the outside of it in the other dimension?"

"It doesn't have an outside."

"But that would mean it has an entire dimension to itself."

The Doctor grimaced. "No, it just means it doesn't have an outside."

"But–"

Jack shot him a warning glance. "Hey, stop poking holes in everything. We're not in Wales anymore. Your laws don't apply here."

"Are you implying that I'm Toto?"

"Depends. Would that make me Dorothy? I'd look fabulous in those red shoes." Jack clicked his heels together.

"If you two think you're the equivalent of Dorothy and Toto, I think we read different books." Twitch smirked. "In the version I read, they were just friends."

"Oi!" Surprisingly, the Doctor rounded on Jack rather than her, pointing his finger accusingly. "I blame you for this, Jack Harkness. Heaven forbid a single individual should meet you without being corrupted."

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "I corrupted you? Funny, the way I remember it, it was the other way around. How are you at dancing these days, by the way?"

The Doctor bit down on the inside of his cheeks, restraining himself. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm sure. Besides, what a Collyrian knows about bestiality is none of my doing."

"Forty-three generations." Twitch shot Jack a look that just might have killed him, had he been mortal. "Will you let it _go_?"

Jack just grinned in reply. "I didn't mention it." The grin faded to a smile. "No, but really. I actually have a lot of admiration for what you did."

"I'll bet." Twitch's scowl didn't lessen in the slightest.

Ianto looked between Jack and the seething young woman in confusion. "Have I missed something?"

Jack's smile perked up. "When humans start spreading out across space, they still love Earth. It's still their home, even after they spread out onto hundreds of colony planets. It's part of their oldest history, and they want to preserve all of it."

"Right." Ianto frowned, wondering where Jack was going with this. Twitch was just staring at him with dead eyes, as though daring him to tell the tale.

"So they do. They take genetic copies of all of Earth's species so that none of them ever die out. Except," Jack continued, "that some species possess a genome that prevents them being cloned. At least, by any method that humans have developed at the time. So they preserve the DNA the only way they can."

Ianto's eyes widened. "Oh God."

Jack grinned. "You're looking at a descendant of a giant panda."

"One eight trillion-seven-hundred-and-ninety-six billion, ninety-three million, twenty-two thousand, two-hundred-and-eighth," Twitch pointed out. "It's a rather insignificant amount."

"Nothing insignificant about it," the Doctor replied. "Saving a dying species. Rather significant. And you never know, if and when humans develop the technology, your DNA might save them after all."

Twitch merely scowled and folded her arms, stalking off to the central console.

"Anyway!" The Doctor said suddenly. "Where were we? Oh. Right. Yes. Temporal activity." He moved over to the central console – a strange combination of skipping and dragging his heels – where he began adjusting various buttons and levers, casting his gaze upwards every so often at the screen that protruded from near the glass column.

He began frowning after a few seconds. "Well. That's odd."

"What is?" Jack asked.

"There's a temporal fluctuation, but it's not me. Well. I say fluctuation. It's more fluid. Not stopping. Like time's become all wibbly-wobbly. Well. Wibbly-wobblier than usual, I mean."

Behind him, Twitch yawned. Ianto caught it seconds later, though he attempted to mask it.

A smile formed on the Doctor's lips as he glanced across at her. "But it doesn't seem dangerous. In fact, it's not doing much at all. So long as the TARDIS keeps monitoring it, it shouldn't do any harm for now. Besides, I think some of us need sleep."

"We don't need sleep, we have coffee." Ianto smiled.

"Speak for yourself. You wouldn't believe the jet-lag from time travel."

Jack grinned. "Oh, I would. Almost as bad as the headache from time travel without a capsule." He pulled a face.

"Yes. Well. If you two would be so kind as to head back off to your secret underground base, we could actually get some sleep. I'm sure your coffee boy could do with some as well. _Actual _sleep, Jack," the Doctor said in a reprimanding tone, as though he could see Jack's thoughts. Or perhaps he just knew the captain as well as Ianto did.

Jack looked almost regretful. "Much as I'd love to have some alone time with Ianto, I'm afraid I don't trust you as far as I could poke you with a stick."

"I've had quite enough of your stick-poking, Jack, thank you very much."

"I mean it, Doc. I know you. You'll try escaping before your other self gets here, and leave us to clear up the mess."

The Doctor looked appalled. "Are you accusing me of meddling with my own timeline?"

"I'm telling you you're going to stay where I can see you, and if that means handcuffing you to a workstation in the Hub overnight, then so be it."

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**Next part will be updated later tonight (or some unholy hour of the morning tomorrow). Reviews may inspire me to write faster. ;D**


	60. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 5 Pt2

**Second part of tonight's update! **

**This makes 3,500 words overall. I was aiming to write 4,000 today. Ah well. I'll try to average it out tomorrow. (For those of you that don't know, I accepted a stupid bet to write 30,000 words within a week. I may die in the attempt, but hopefully the resulting fic will be good. XD)**

**Hope you enjoy!**

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The Doctor awoke the next morning with a throbbing pain in his right wrist and a crick in his neck. He turned to find himself handcuffed to a workstation in the Hub. Ah. Well. That explained it. He made a mental note never to underestimate Jack's word, and glanced around for anything that might help him to unchain himself. He came across the form of Ianto Jones propped against the doorway to Jack's office, coffee in hand, wearing different clothes, and looking altogether too cheery.

"Good morning." He took a sip from the mug in his hand.

The Doctor glared up at him. "Is it?"

Ianto quirked his lips. "Depends on where you're sat, I suppose."

"And I don't suppose you'd care to uncuff me, by any chance?"

"Jack's handcuffed you to a desk and yet you're complaining." Ianto shook his head. "Some people. Still," he mused. "Could be worse."

The Doctor scowled up at him. "How could it be worse?"

Ianto smiled at him. "Any idea what those handcuffs are used for around here?"

The Doctor screwed his eyes tightly shut. "Things just got worse. Okay. Point taken. Now, _please_ uncuff me?"

"Can't. Jack's got the key."

The Doctor stared at him. "You're the archivist and you don't have a spare key?"

"We only tend to need one key for those cuffs." Ianto paused and crouched down to the Doctor's eye level. "Although I could probably find a spare, if I wanted to." He let a few more seconds pass before continuing. "So how do you and Jack know each other?" he asked, trying to keep a conversational tone in his voice."

It didn't work. The Doctor stared at him. "Oh. That's what this is about, is it?"

"Are you going to answer the question, or not?"

"We travelled together. Time. Space. The usual. He became immortal, I ditched him."

"And he waited centuries for you to come back, only for you to abandon him again," Ianto supplied.

"No, actually he abandoned me the second time around."

Ianto regarded him. "And that's all there was between you?"

The Doctor paused. "Probably."

"Probably?"

"Well, that's all there's been in my timeline. But he seems to know me better than I know him."

"He travelled with you again," Ianto said softly. "Even after he promised to stay, he went."

The Doctor looked up at him. "Well. For all we know, it might've been from before he met you."

"Except that he was still waiting for you when he met me." Ianto forced a smile onto his face. "But thanks anyway." He pulled a small key from inside his waistcoat. "Incidentally, what made you think it was Jack that locked you up?"

"You had a key all along?"

"I never said I didn't," Ianto pointed out. The Doctor frowned at the young Welshman's technical truth.

An alarm starting beeping below them and there was a mechanical clacking as the cog door of the Hub rolled open. "Morning, boys!" somebody called up. "Hope we're not interrupting anything!"

Ianto grinned as the handcuffs around the Doctor's wrists fell off and he stood up and walked over to the balcony. "Morning, Anna."

"What, I don't get a greeting?" A Welshman younger than Ianto bounded up the steps two at a time, wearing a wide grin. "Where's Jack?" He caught sight of the Doctor seated under the workstation, rubbing his sore wrists, and the handcuffs lying on the ground nearby. His eyes widened. "That's not Jack."

"Very perceptive," the Doctor grumbled.

Ianto smiled. "Greg, this is the Doctor. Doctor, Greg, our medic."

Greg frowned at Ianto quizzically. "I thought you said your doctor died."

The Doctor stood up and brushed the dirt from his jeans with a slight harrumph. "Not their doctor. The Doctor. Although I have died. Several times. Sort of."

"Not quite dead," Ianto muttered. "Should join Torchwood."

"Not if he values his sanity," Greg added with a smile.

"Don't think he's got much left."

"Oi!" The Doctor scowled. A terrible thought suddenly occurred to him. "Where's Jack, and where's Twitch? And I'd better get two different answers."

Ianto regarded him calmly. "Jack's in the Vaults, looking after our new Weevil. Twitch, I have no idea." He tapped at the comms device that the Doctor hadn't even noticed was nestled beside his ear. "Jack, d'you know where Twitch is?"

"Having fun in the archives, last time I looked. Why?"

To Ianto's apparent surprise, the voice didn't come through the comms device, but from a few metres away. He spun around to find Jack standing behind him, hands on hips, surveying the scene with an expression of dismay. "The Doctor was worried about her," Ianto explained. "What? Why are you giving me that look?"

"I'm seeing three good-looking young men and a pair of handcuffs. You tell me what's wrong with this picture."

"Since when have I been young?" the Doctor scoffed.

"Since I hit three thousand," Jack replied. "Now. Greg. We've got another Weevil down in the Vaults, not injured, but–"

"Already told him that," said Ianto.

"We've also got a young woman having fun in the archives. A little bit loopy, but essentially harmless. The Doctor tells me she's off-limits, but I'm not sure if that's just to me, or–"

"To everybody," the Doctor interjected, somewhat tersely.

Jack frowned. "Did I miss the memo that said it was okay to interrupt me today?"

"I left a copy on your desk," Ianto informed him.

"Thanks. Anyway, Greg, if you could just give our new inmate a check-over, run some scans..."

Greg's eyes rested on the Doctor for a second before returning to Jack. "Wait, you meant the Weevil. Right. Yep. On it." He thrust his fingers to his forehead in a careless salute before descending the steps once more.

Smiling, the Doctor turned to Jack. "One of yours?"

"You could tell?"

"He had a bit of a look about him." The Doctor didn't bother to mention that they'd met before. They obviously hadn't in Torchwood's timeline.

"Jaaack?" Greg's voice rose up to meet them.

Jack, Ianto and the Doctor all leaned over the balcony to find Greg craning up to look at them. "What?"

"I don't have a clue what this machine actually does, but whatever it's measuring is going off the scale!" Panic resounded in his voice.

Within seconds, the others – Anna included – were crowded around the monitor nearest the base of the fountain. Ianto frowned. "When you said off the scale, I didn't think you meant it literally."

Jack tilted his head in confusion at the screen, matching Ianto's frown. "That...no. That's impossible."

The only line on the screen was dead straight, like a life support machine registering nothing.

"That's actually impossible," Jack repeated, incredulous.

Behind him, the Doctor slipped his glasses on and peered closer. "What's it supposed to be monitoring?"

"The Rift. It uses the averages, though, so it's less dramatic than the detailed ones we usually use, but even so..." Ianto ran a hand through his hair, his eyebrows raised dramatically. "That's registering at base _negative seventy-one_."

"I'm going to go ahead and assume this is a very bad thing," Greg said, grimacing.

"A very, very, _very_ bad thing," Jack corrected. "The Rift is trying to close itself."

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**Reviews? Please? -smiles sweetly- And don't forget to review Scarf's fic, either! **

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	61. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 6

**On time today! **

**There was no update yesterday because I got back from filming at the rather ridiculous hour of 9:20pm, and my time machine is broken at the moment. I fixed it in time for today, though. **

**Just about. **

**Well. Maybe I was a few minutes off. I blame the faulty clock. It's never been the same since it got eaten by a Preidoxhylorian. **

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Greg just stared at him. "Is that even possible?"

Ianto quirked an eyebrow at him. "Apparently so."

"It's not meant to be." Jack looked both infuriated and scared of the screen. He rounded on the Doctor. "This better not have anything to do with you."

"Me?" The Doctor gestured outward with both hands, and inched backwards defensively. "Innocent of all charges, me. Well. Not all. Most. Some. Occasionally. Not the point." He joined Jack in frowning at the screen.

"I don't mean to sound like an idiot, but why is the Rift closing a bad thing?" Greg asked.

Anna nodded in agreement beside him, one arm folded tightly across her chest. "Surely if the Rift is closing, less debris comes through. Less for us to clear up."

Jack raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you want to be out of a job?"

"You're acting like it's rather more serious than us losing our jobs, Captain."

"It is." The Doctor met her gaze. "The Rift isn't just in Cardiff. It's all over the universe, on millions of planets. Think of it like a motorway with lots of junctions."

"And if one of the junctions is shut off, or if there's an accident," Jack continued, "the traffic gets re-routed. All of our debris, all our space-junk, is ending up on somebody else's doorstep. And I really don't think they'll be happy about it."

Twitch watched them with a strange expression on her face. "So just reverse it."

"It's not that simple." Ianto glanced across at Jack and then, with some hesitation, at the Doctor. "We can't manipulate the Rift. It's like the Void – if we tried, the gravity would pull things back and forth, and we'd have no control over what got pulled through."

"Well..." The Doctor pulled a face. "I could probably do something about that, with a little technical fidgeting. But–" He pulled his glasses from his pocket once more and stepped a little closer to Ianto, who instinctively took a step backwards as the older man invaded his personal space. The Doctor just smiled to himself. "Thought I recognised you from somewhere. Torchwood One. I never forget a face. Well. Sometimes my own..." He inhaled sharply and turned on his left heel until he was facing Jack square on. "Anyway. The good news is that this is probably the temporal anomaly that the TARDIS was drawn towards, so I'm no longer intent on killing your boyfriend. Well. For now." He caught Jack's expression and rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine. Not at all."

"I'm not his boyfriend," Ianto said quickly.

Jack frowned at him over the Doctor's shoulder. "You're not?" He placed a hand on his hip. "Could've fooled me."

Ianto looked at him expectantly. "Sorry, what happened to not liking labels?"

"What happened to wanting to be able to neatly categorise everything?" Jack returned, though with the hint of a smile formed at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm the archivist, that's my job."

The Doctor looked from Jack to Ianto and shook his head. "Honestly. This is why cross-era relationships never work. You two keep trying to please each other and to be honest, it's all rather sickening. You'll never work out if you keep trying to toe the line and keep to the standards you think the other one has. Jack, he's already settled for you, and you," he continued, turning to Ianto, "Well. Jack doesn't exactly have standards for you to live up to, now does he?"

Jack regarded him for a second and then looked at Ianto. "Y'know, he has a point."

"And we have slightly bigger problems than your relationship issues right now, Captain," Anna prompted.

"Oh. Right. Yes." The Doctor suddenly sprung into action, fingers tapping furiously away at the machine, as though trying to provoke a response of some sort – desperate to find an answer, a reason. "The Rift closing isn't nearly as worrying as the fact that it's not a natural occurrence." He glanced at the team that were huddled around him, listening intently. "Judging by these readings, somebody's _trying_ to close it."

"Not us," Jack said, hurriedly holding his hands up in a defensive manner.

"Well. No. It wouldn't be, would it?" the Doctor asked exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "I highly doubt you'd sabotage your own organisation, Jack. Not while Whitehall keep paying you to look pretty." He inhaled through his teeth. "Right. So. We need to find the source of the Rift closure."

Jack nodded across at Ianto. "Go through the database, see if you can find any links or patterns."

He turned back to the Doctor. "What exactly are we looking for?"

The Doctor pulled a face. "Could be anything. I'm not sure if the TARDIS was drawn here because this is where the Rift is closing, or whether whatever's closing it is here. So it could be alien in origin, or it could be somebody on Earth. Have you annoyed anybody recently?"

"Whitehall." Anna smirked.

"Hey." Jack furrowed his brow. "Whitehall don't hate us that much. Besides, they keep away from anything alien. Frightened of the stuff. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. They prefer to ignore it."

"So who else?"

"The police? Finally getting fed up of us bossing them around and invading their crime scenes?" Anna suggested.

Jack shook his head. "Not smart enough."

"UNIT, then?"

"Martha wouldn't let them." Greg's response was too quick and defensive for Anna's apparent liking, as she shot him a glare.

"He's right, UNIT wouldn't even attempt that sort of thing," the Doctor reasoned. "Actually, it's worth getting in touch, see if they've come across any strange activity."

Greg grinned. "I'll get right on it."

"Okay." Jack nodded. "Anna, can you cross-reference the Hub data pools with the negative Rift activity? We need to know how long this has been going on for. That way we can rule out organisations according to timeframes."

She saluted and walked briskly off to carry out her task.

Twitch looked up at Jack. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Go back through the archives. The boxes are labelled with the dates the objects came through the Rift. Start with the most recent and work your way backwards. See if there's anything unusual, anything that doesn't belong. Here." He threw her a small device not unlike a Geiger counter. "This measures the level of Rift radiation. Within each box, the items ought to have soaked up roughly the same amount. If there's anything that has an unusual amount, report it. And if you have any problems, just ask Ianto."

She nodded at him, beaming, and scurried off down the corridor in the direction of the archives.

The Doctor regarded Jack over the top of his glasses. "You've grown into quite the leader."

Jack shrugged. "I had to."

"I find it difficult to believe it's all a matter of duty, Jack. Some people are born leaders."

Jack smiled at him, something wistful in his expression.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just an unexpected compliment, that's all."

"Right." The Doctor didn't look as though he quite believed him. Nevertheless, he dropped the subject. "You don't have any idea who might be trying to close the Rift?"

"Are you sure it's somebody we'd know?" Jack asked. "It might just as easily be somebody the other side of the Rift trying to close themselves in, as it might somebody closing us out."

The Doctor handed him a look before removing the glasses from his face and depositing them in one of his many pockets. "I doubt that for the same reasons you do, Jack."

"You don't think, of all the civilisations built around the Rift, one of them's strong enough to close it?"

"It's a lot likelier it's an internal source. Look at this planet, Jack, and tell me you don't think they're capable."

Jack grinned. "Oh, I believe they're capable all right. I just think we have a lot more enemies out there than we do here."

"Well. That might be true, but statistically I think we're safer betting that the threat's on Earth. Somewhere."

Just then, an alarm resounded throughout the Hub. Jack looked down at his wrist strap with some curiosity. "Looks like another Weevil." He grinned up at the Doctor. "Wanna come with?"

"Seeing as last time, I ended up handcuffed to a desk by the end of the night, I'll pass."

"I'll be the one that gets handcuffed this time, if you like." Jack grinned.

The Doctor smiled, but held firm. "Jack. Whatever you and I had, it wasn't between us."

Jack's grin faltered, only to be replaced with a sad smile. He knew what the Doctor meant, knew he was right – it wasn't something that existed in either of their current timelines. For Jack, the time had passed. For the Doctor, it was yet to come. But it wasn't between either of them, between who they were at that point in time. "Not yet."

"Not anymore," the Doctor corrected. "You have your team here. They're ready, they're capable, and they love you enough to risk their lives. Don't ignore that. Don't."

Jack just nodded.

"I'm not him, Jack. Don't treat me like I am." He grimaced and exhaled sharply. "Did I abandon you?" he asked suddenly.

"Are you planning to?" Jack half-smiled at him.

"No. Well. No. I just... You just look like you're..." The Doctor paused. "Waiting, I think."

Jack shook his head. "Nah. Better things to do with my time." He forced a smile onto his face. "Weevil hunting!" He clapped his hands together and shot the Doctor a wide grin.

The Doctor just smiled at him. "Will you be okay on your own?"

"Always am."

And with that, Jack strode out of the Hub without another word.

* * *

Sometime before Jack returned, though nobody could have placed an exact time on it – they were all too busy doing their allocated tasks – the cog door rolled open to reveal Lois, holding a small folder and peering in cautiously as though she had been expecting something that wasn't there. Or somebody. She caught sight of Ianto and strode up the stairway to meet him, heels clacking on the metal grating. "Where's Jack?" she asked, once she had reached his level.

"Gone out Weevil hunting."

She nodded. "Right. And who's the strange ginger man downstairs?"

"Oh, that's the Doctor. He's an old friend of Jack's," replied Ianto.

Greg snorted as he came up behind them. It didn't take long for Anna to join the conversation, either. "That's one way of putting it."

Ianto regarded Greg with a curious expression. "You were acting like you didn't know him earlier."

Greg shrugged with one shoulder. "Easier to get information from him that way. He must know something about Jack that we don't."

"What's your fascination with Jack?" Ianto raised an eyebrow and received a grin in reply.

"Just because I'm no longer interested in Jack doesn't mean I'm no longer interested _by_ him," Greg corrected. "He's an immortal from three millennia into the future. It rouses natural human curiosity."

"So long as that's all it's rousing." Anna smirked.

Greg flashed her a toothy grin that Ianto was sure he'd picked up from Jack. "Why, are you bothered by it?"

"No," Anna replied in a breezy tone. "But as secondary medic, I'd be the one stitching you up after Ianto was finished with you. Or maybe I wouldn't. I suppose it would depend on my mood." She eyed him casually.

Greg just laughed.

Beside them, Lois smiled. She handed the folder in her arms over to Ianto with a breathless explanation before cursing her own eagerness. She knew she didn't need to be the over-enthusiastic employee anymore, knew that Torchwood had hired her on her own merits, but all the same, it was a mask she often fell behind without realising. It wasn't even as though Ianto was the one that she needed to impress, though he often felt more like the boss than Jack did.

It was a little like a hierarchy, she decided, with Jack at the top, and Gwen and Ianto and maybe Anna as his lower command, before the rest of them slotted in a rabble at the bottom. Besides, she was a little afraid to suck up to Jack in case she got accused of – well. Ianto and Gwen had had enough of it between them even before Greg appeared. She wasn't about to join in. "These are the reports on that new power company you were asking about."

"Thanks." He took the folder from her with an appreciative smile and began leafing through it.

"Why were you interested, if you don't mind me asking?" She swept a lock of hair behind her ear. "Nuclear facility, doesn't seem like something we ought to be concerned with."

Distracted from Anna, Greg looked over with a frown. "Nuclear? As in nuclear fission? God, I didn't think that would ever take off."

"Accounts for about a seventh of the world's electricity." Ianto smiled. "You missed the big boom. 1942, I think. Halfway through the war."

"They used it in the war as well." Lois' glance toward Greg carried more than a hint of disapproval. "Bombing innocents."

"They did that before nuclear weapons and they'll do it after," Anna countered.

Greg looked between the two women, unsure how to respond, or if he even ought to do so.

Anna continued before he had the chance. "And it helped to end the war and advance science, so think twice before you start climbing on a high horse about it."

It was at this moment that Greg decided he didn't want to join this conversation, brutal as it was becoming. Ianto seemed to share this sentiment, as he quickly turned back to Lois in an attempt to continue on from an earlier point of their conversation, before it had veered somewhat off-course. "Cardiff has a rather interesting nuclear history. Well, not history as such, because it's only been in the last five years or so, but interesting all the same. First there was the Blaidd Drwg project, which nearly caused a meltdown a few years ago, and then there was Turnmill, which actually did cause a meltdown. A contained one, but even so." His eyes softened. "We lost our last medic in that blast. Trapped inside. Irradiated. Owen Harper." He sighed.

"Sorry." Lois grimaced. "But even so, that's not a reason for us to investigate, is it? I mean, meltdowns aren't anything to do with us."

"No, but I just wanted to check it out. Make sure it wasn't anything to worry about. No aliens running about behind the scenes or anything." He cracked a smile.

"IANTOOO!" Jack's voice echoed through the Hub even before the cog door rolled open – a testament to just how loudly he was shouting. With barely as much of a glance toward each other, the Torchwood team descended the steps to meet him.

Greg, as the fastest runner, got there first. "What's wrong?"

Jack was stood there, breathless and hunched over slightly under the weight of the Weevil that was slung across his shoulders. Slowly, he heaved the Weevil to its feet and removed the hood, showing the thick, angular collar that it was wearing. "This is."

The Weevil swayed slightly, dazed by the spray. It was only after a few seconds that it appeared to recognise the presence of the team, and bared its teeth. Instead of snarling, as expected, it instead opened its jaw further. "I bring message for target planet," it growled, its voice guttural and rasping.

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**Thanks to Scarf for betaing, and for all of you guys for reviewing! =3 **


	62. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 7

**Sorry for leaving you on that cliffhanger for more than simply a day. I've been rather ill with stress, and had severe writer's block. With any luck, I'm fighting fit once more, though of course that remains to be seen. **

**I rather like this chapter. Even if it did make me start wanting Greg to be Thirteen's next companion. They'd be so cracky together! XD**

**Enjoy!**

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"Whoa." Greg stared at the creature, shifting his body so that he stood side-on to it, ready to run if necessary. He didn't know quite why he was more scared of the Weevil now that it spoke. Maybe just because it was unexpected, unfamiliar – and he'd had more than enough of that recently. He was only just adjusting to Cardiff in the 21st century.

"Those things talk?!" Lois looked incredulously at Jack, though it was Ianto who answered.

"Apparently so."

"They've never talked before, though, have they?" She turned to Anna. "I mean, I've never heard them do anything except growl!"

"Growl?" The Doctor came up behind them, loosening his scarf until it merely hung around his neck.

Ianto shot him a patronising look. "Yes, that is what Weevils tend to do. Unless they're too busy mauling your face off, that is."

The Doctor returned his expression. "I keep telling you, that's not a Weevil. It's a Preidoxhylorian. Not the smartest race in the galaxy, I'll grant you – well, they're not from this galaxy, but they're not the smartest in theirs, either – but still perfectly sentient. A little bit above growling."

Jack cleared his throat rather loudly. "Are we all going to be quiet and let him speak, or just stand here and bicker all day?"

The Doctor muttered something under his breath, but a general consensus of silence followed. Ianto interrupted it only seconds later. "How do you know it's a 'him'?"

"Trust me, after a few centuries roaming the universe, you learn to distinguish pretty easily."

"Not to mention determining sex is somewhat Jack's forte," the Doctor murmured.

Ianto smirked. "I thought that was determined sex."

The Doctor simply shrugged. "Tomatoe, tomatoh. Call it what you will."

Lois stared in abject horror at the two of them, her face aghast. "With...Weevils?"

"Preidoxhylorians," the Doctor automatically corrected. "And if you're freaked out that easily, make sure you never root through the Torchwood CCTV."

"Have you?"

"No. Well. I've heard tales."

Jack shot them both a look, though he wasn't entirely able to keep the smugness from his face.

"Oh. Right. Yes. Sorry." The Doctor beamed at the Weevil. "Hello. You were saying?"

The Weevil – or Preidoxhylorian, rather – stared at him incomprehensively for a second, as though trying to process the Doctor's frantic and fragmented speech pattern. "I am Bu."

"Eek!"

Ianto gave the Doctor a funny look.

"No? No sense of humour? Okay then." He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he inspected Bu. "Hello, Bu. You're a Preidoxhylorian, yes?"

Bu nodded in affirmation.

Ianto took a tentative step forwards. "Welcome to Torchwood. Would you...like a cup of coffee?" he suggested.

"Coffee?" The Doctor pivoted on his left foot and stared at Ianto. "Coffee?! Unofficial first contact with a sentient species and you're offering it _coffee_?"

"...Yes?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Typical."

"Well, it's not first contact, anyway. We've had contact with a lot of sentient alien species before. Not always intelligent, but sentient. You, for example."

"You can have a lot of first contacts," the Doctor reasoned. "And you didn't offer _me_ coffee when we met."

"I'm fairly certain I did."

"I'm certain you didn't, and my IQ ranks several hundred points above yours. So." There was a brief pause, during which the Doctor's eyebrows knitted closer together. "Well? Why are you still standing here?"

Ianto firmly but politely stood his ground. "You could say 'please'," he prompted.

"Why would I say please? You say please when asking for something, not when being offered it."

"I didn't offer, though."

"Aha!" The Doctor jabbed a finger at him. "Told you."

Ianto just frowned.

Jack smiled gently and clapped the young Welshman on the shoulder. "You don't ever win an argument with the Doctor. I'll take a mug while you're at it."

"Yes, sir."

Jack grinned at the familiar lilt as Ianto turned on his heel and headed over to the coffee machine.

The Doctor had seemingly already forgotten the conversation that had passed only a moment ago, as he was already fixated upon inspecting Bu's collar. "Your kind don't usually wear these."

"They were developed by the Doctor to aid transportation."

"Ah. Nothing to do with me," the Doctor clarified, just as Jack turned an accusative stare toward him. "Well. I don't remember it having anything to do with me. It might still, I suppose. Another me. Who did you say that letter was from?"

"Nadrin," Jack replied. "That was...Twelve?"

The Doctor scrunched his face up in an effort to remember. "Eleven, wasn't it?"

"You never visited me with Eleven."

"Not to mention that Molly knew her," Twitch added, "so it must have been in your twelfth incarnation."

"Incarnation?" Lois stared at the Doctor as though he'd just sprouted a fifth limb.

Anna smirked across at her. "You didn't know? He changes his face to keep himself from dying."

The Doctor regarded her over the top of his glasses, frowning. "And who're you? I definitely don't remember you. Not from UNIT, by any chance? You look the type."

"MI5," Jack answered, grinning. "Now." He clapped his hands and turned to Bu. "You had a message for us?"

Bu's expression was grave. "You are to stop the closure."

"Of the Rift? That's not us. It's not us that's closing it."

"Our technology pinpoints this as the location of the closure."

"Yeah, well, I think we'd have noticed."

Bu leaned closer, baring his teeth slightly. "Our technology pinpoints this as the location of the closure," he repeated.

"And I'm telling you, your technology is wrong."

Upon hearing Bu repeat the same message again, Jack turned to face the others like an actor presenting an aside. "He's insistent, I'll give him that."

"Might be from nearby," the Doctor said. "The signal, I mean. That their technology picked up on."

"Could be." Jack eyed Bu warily. "Lois, can you see if you can track down any sort of signal? Twitch, you can help if you like. I'm going to lock this guy in the vaults so we can keep an eye on him."

"Jack." The reprimand in the Doctor's voice was clear even before he spoke another word. "You can't just lock Preidoxhylorians up."

"Why not? We did it when they were Weevils." Jack shrugged and took a pair of cuffs to Bu's wrists before he had a chance to react. Although, thinking about it, he had actually had ample time to react, seeing as Jack had spoken his plans aloud. Maybe Bu wasn't good at translating. Or maybe Bu was just a little bit slow on the uptake.

The Doctor sighed as Jack pressed the Preidoxhylorian around the corner and into the adjacent corridor. The sound of footsteps clattering down on metal grates echoed around the Hub.

Lois smiled at Twitch and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Jack said you might want to help?"

"Sure!" Twitch beamed and followed her to a nearby workstation. Lois spent the first few minutes explaining the file system of the Hub database before letting the girl loose on the computer (restricted access only, of course). Her fingers were slow on the keyboard, as though she weren't used to using one, or perhaps didn't even know what one was, but she seemed comfortable enough accessing the database and running through long lists of information.

Which left Greg with the Doctor.

A strange ginger man whom he'd never met but had heard so much about. A short (well, taller than him, but not by much), gangly figure shrouded in mystery and legend. Greg wasn't sure he was even supposed to strike up conversation, let alone sure what he might say. But if they stayed here for much longer in this uncomfortable silence, then –

"You seem a lot quieter than this morning."

Greg blinked at him. "Pardon?"

"This morning. You came bounding up the steps, life of the party. Now, you're just... Well. You're just..." The Doctor gestured vaguely at him. "Quiet. Anything wrong?"

"No."

"Oh." The Doctor paused. "Are you sure?"

"It's just a bit of a touchy subject, that's all."

"What is?"

"You."

The Doctor looked at him, bewildered. "Me?" He looked down at his attire. The young man mirrored his black jeans, so there was nothing wrong there. And long coats never went out of fashion. "Is it the scarf?"

"What?"

"The scarf. Do you not like scarves? You don't look like a scarf person. Hm. Scarf people. I've met them. Well. No, actually. I haven't. I only met the one. Scarf person. Singular. I ought to meet more."

Greg took a slow step backwards with one foot. "You're a creepy, time-travelling old man. I don't do well with creepy, time-travelling old men."

"I'm not creepy." A brief pause as the Doctor considered this. "Am I?"

"You're a time-travelling old man. That's creepy enough in its own right."

"From what I've heard, you get on well enough with Jack," the Doctor commented, sounding slightly miffed.

"That's different. Jack's never time-travelled within my timeline."

"Well. Not that you know of." The Doctor tilted his head to the right. "Although I see what you mean. And why, when else have you encountered creepy time-travelling old men?"

"I was kidnapped."

The Doctor removed his glasses and squinted at Greg, who took another step back with his other foot, trying to increase the distance between them. "I thought you looked a little funny."

"What?"

"Funny. Not ha-ha funny. Odd funny. Well. Probably not by Torchwood standards. Even so."

"How d'you mean, I look funny?" The first hint of a scowl appeared on Greg's face.

The Doctor waved a hand. "Oh, I don't mean you _look_ funny. I mean you look _funny_."

Greg, not understanding any difference between these two statements, continued to stare at the Doctor as though he'd escaped from an asylum of sorts. Which he probably had, at some point. It might explain a lot.

"Well, you don't fit. Well. You do. But you don't." The Doctor twisted his mouth in irritation at his own incoherence. "Your timeline goes shzwooooop," he clarified – or at least, intended to, moving one of his hands in a large arc around the other one. "It jumps."

"Oh. You mean I'm not meant to be here." Greg smiled. "Sorry. Not exactly my fault. I got dumped here."

"No, no. No." The Doctor gave him a strange look, simultaneously baffled and pleased. "You are meant to be here. That's why it goes shzwooooop rather than shzwip," he added, nodding sagely.

"Shwip?"

"Shzwip," the Doctor corrected. "Your timeline jumps, but it's constant with the time around it. In other words, it's meant to bend around what you perceive as Earth's chronological timeline."

"I was _meant_ to be dragged through time?"

"Looks like it. Oh, but fate's fun sometimes." The Doctor grinned at him.

"Not the word I'd use." Greg shook his head, sighing. "We should probably do something productive," he said eventually. "Help search the database or something." He trailed off.

"Good plan." The Doctor turned the monitor toward him and, pulling the sonic screwdriver from his pocket, aimed it at the screen, squinting and poking his tongue out between his teeth as he did so.

Greg raised his eyebrows at the strange device before pointing out, "Jack said that wouldn't work. Deadlock sealed."

The Doctor gave a muffled reply, the screwdriver now firmly grasped between his teeth. He heaved one foot up to rest on the edge of the desk, supporting his weight as he adjusted some wiring at the back of the monitor. He spat the screwdriver out into his awaiting palm and pointed it at the screen once more. Images began shuffling past as though on a high-sped film reel, moving faster than Greg's eyes could follow. The Doctor turned to him with a grin. "I disabled the Hub's deadlock system a while back." He pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't tell Jack."

"Jack!"

A cry erupted from behind them, and they turned to find Ianto mid-step, coffee tray in hand, staring in abject horror at a nearby workstation. "We have Rift activity all across the city centre," he said, as soon as Jack – and the others, curious as to what had caused his expression, or simply desperate for coffee – stood beside him.

Jack looked over his shoulder at the screen, frowning. "All Weevils?"

"All Weevils."

Greg watched their carefully guarded expressions, and assumed the worst. "We don't have the means to contain all of them, do we?"

"I'm not sure we even have the means to catch all of them," Jack replied.

"So what do we do? We can't just leave them there, surely." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anna load her gun and clip it to her belt.

Jack followed his line of sight. "We do what we can."

Ianto glanced up at him. "Shall I call for police back-up?"

"Where is bobby boy today, anyway?" Anna asked, smirking. "Overslept?"

Suddenly, Lois clapped her hands to her mouth. "God, I completely forgot. He's ill, I was meant to tell you, Jack. Sorry." She looked so apologetic that it was almost impossible to be angry at her, or even irritated.

Jack just waved a hand. "Doesn't matter. To be honest, I can do without him today." He glanced around. The rest of the team were there, plus the Doctor, minus Twitch – probably still in the archives. "Take weapons, take spray, take handcuffs, hoods, plastic ties. We have a bit of pest control to do." He grinned.

It was only as they were making their exit from the Hub that the Doctor politely mentioned that the CCTV was showing empty vaults.

* * *

**Thanks to Scarf for betaing, and for all of you guys for reviewing! =3 **


	63. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 8

**Within this chapter, we have: **

**- A Fourteen joke (specifically, a One Good Reason reference)  
- A Torchwood reference joke (can you find it?)  
- An engineering joke**

**With regards to the last one, I am not an engineer and thus am going on word of mouth and TV Tropes alone. I hope it's acceptable anyway. =D**

**Thanks to Scarf for betaing and pestering me to actually update.**

**Also, to whoever posted that Fandom Secret the other day: thank you. You helped me meet a wonderful new fandom friend, and you have my honest thanks for that. Also, I'm flattered that Fourteen actually got its own fandom secret. **

* * *

"They're what?" Ianto stared across at him, horror evident on his face.

The Doctor regarded him with little more than passing curiosity. "Empty."

"Empty?"

"Yes. Empty. Not full. Lacking. Not containing anything. Are you _sure_ you don't speak Welsh rather than English?"

Ianto glared at him. "Do I sound like I'm speaking Welsh?"

"I expect to some people, you do. Accents, and all that." The Doctor sniffed. "And actually, no. To me, you sound like you're speaking a language far too complicated for your little human brain to comprehend. Which is why you shouldn't believe everything that you hear." He paused for a second before adding, "I bet you probably think Jack's American, don't you?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"I never said you were."

Ianto shot him an irritated glance. "'Little human brain', you said."

"What? It _is_ little. Statistically."

"How can they be empty?" Jack asked, staring at the screen, daring it to show nothing but the cells.

"Jack, we have Weevils to catch. Six readings of abnormal strength levels, and if we don't get there soon, we might have an incident on our hands."

"One problem at a time," Jack snapped.

Ianto dealt with this uncharacteristic behaviour much as he dealt with anything. "That would be the ideal situation, yes," he deadpanned. "Unfortunately, this is Torchwood, and the problems, like buses, keep you waiting and then come along in threes."

Jack frowned and counted off on his fingers. "Empty vaults, Weevils loose all over Cardiff... What's the third problem?"

"Him." Ianto thumbed towards the Doctor with a smirk.

The Doctor just grinned in reply. "I hope those aren't categorised in order, because I ought to be first."

"Competitive," Ianto commented.

"Always. Jealous?"

"No." Ianto's reply came just a moment too quickly, and he tried to cover it up by posing a question in return. "Are you?"

The Doctor pulled a strange face that was both frown and grin simultaneously. "Oh. Me? Always."

Behind them, Jack arched his eyebrows.

Greg rolled his eyes. "Weevil hunting, anybody?" he reminded them.

Jack grinned sheepishly and ran across to the retreating cog door, his coat nearly snagging as he sidestepped through the gap. Greg and the Doctor followed seconds behind, both clearly experienced runners. Anna strode out at her own pace, re-checking her weapons as she went. Lois straggled, sprinting a short distance to catch up, desperate not to be left behind. The last thing they needed was to be waiting for her as Ianto brought the SUV around.

The strongest energy reading was coming from some miles away, nearer to Newport than Cardiff itself, and because of traffic, it took much longer to get there than any of the team would have liked. The SUV meandered around John Frost Square, driving aimlessly as Lois frantically attempted to isolate a single signal on the hyper-directional Rift footprint scouter that had been thrust into her hands on departure.

The Doctor gave it a disdainful glance – he was squashed in between Greg and Anna and was looking pretty disdainful anyhow, actually. He sniffed. "That rubbish won't do you any good. What you really need is a turboencabulator. That'd do the trick. Well. Better than that Torchwood rubbish, anyway."

Jack turned in his seat just to glare. "D'you mind?"

"Not really." All the same, he dropped the subject.

"Got it!" Lois exclaimed. In her excitement, she nearly dropped the scouter. She read the co-ordinates aloud, and in a matter of moments, the SUV pulled up in Havelock Street. A group of Weevils stood in plain view, and Jack jumped out of the vehicle as abruptly as it had stopped, Webley cocked just in case.

"How many of them are there?" Greg asked, half curiosity and half fear in his voice.

Jack did a quick head count. "Five." All of them were simply standing there, backs straight rather than curved in their usual lope, as though standing to attention. Like soldiers.

"So that means there are five of them in every location, if they registered the same energy output levels." Ianto didn't look particularly pleased by this information. "Thirty Weevils for us to round up. Fun."

Jack laughed as he took a careful step closer to the Weevil nearest him. "Time was when you loved Weevil hunting."

"Time was when Weevil hunting wasn't hunting Weevils," Greg muttered. He had a medi-kit clasped firmly in his right hand, but he really didn't want to have to use it. As Jack leapt toward the unsuspecting Weevil with a pair of cuffs and was thrown backwards with a resounding crack, Greg thought that perhaps he might be needed after all.

Ianto shouted Jack's name as their leader was hurled into a nearby wall. Lois winced; the others didn't leave time to do so. They were at Jack's side within seconds.

The Doctor looked down at the unconscious body, regarding it as though trying to figure out whether or not Jack was actually–

"Dead," Ianto pronounced, checking Jack's pulse.

Lois clasped her hands over her mouth and choked out a sob, and the others glanced towards her with the vague realisation that she'd probably never seen Jack die before.

Ianto pulled a stopwatch from his jacket pocket and counted down fifteen seconds. "...2...1..."

Jack jerked back into life with a noticeable gasp of breath. His breathing was hard and fast for several moments as he took in the crowd gathered around him. "Oh, don't say I'm doing this for entertainment purposes again," he groaned, heaving himself to his feet.

"No, actually you just got beaten up by a Weevil." A smirk escaped Anna all too easily.

Jack exhaled sharply and cracked his knuckles. "Well, if that's the way they wanna play it." He approached the Weevil again, this time ready with a hood – if it were blinded, he doubted its aim would be decent enough to knock him down for the count again.

It probably wouldn't have been, except that Jack didn't manage to get the hood on in time. There was a brief tussle before he was thrown to the ground again. The crack was, if it was possible, even louder and more painful-sounding than before.

"See, now it's getting kinda personal," Jack complained, in the same breath in which he revived. Lois just stared in shock as this time he dodged around the Weevil, feinting one way and then another in an effort to trick it. It growled at him from the back of its throat.

"Hm. Preidoxhylorians don't usually growl," the Doctor noted. "Maybe the collar's not entirely Rift-proof. Probably shoddy workmanship."

Ianto looked at him. "Shouldn't we, I don't know, be helping Jack?"

"What, you want your neck cracked open? Because yours probably won't fix itself, and I'm not sure Jack would be very pleased."

Jack had finished skirting the Weevil by this point, and even managed to successfully drop the hood over its head before he found himself skidding along the ground towards the others, in considerable pain. At least he hadn't died this time around.

The Doctor looked down pointedly at him. "It might be an idea not to do that again."

Jack grinned up at him, groaned, and shook a crick from his neck. "Gah, that's painful." He rolled his shoulders a couple of times as he got to his feet.

"The hood's coming loose," Lois said, pointing desperately but too terrified to do anything about it.

Before Jack had a chance to react, Greg darted forwards and yanked the ties on either side of the hood, fastening it securely enough for the moment before jumping instinctively backwards as it lashed out at the empty space he had previously occupied.

Jack shot him a look. "Good work, don't do it again."

Greg nodded, hands rested on his kneecaps as he regained his breath. "And how do you suggest we stop them, then? You dying every few seconds?"

"If we have to."

"Or we could attempt to use the spray." Anna raised an eyebrow.

"Or," the Doctor suggested, "I could use this sonic screwdriver to imitate a sub-etheric resonator which would deactivate their collars and reduce them to the regular Weevils that you're used to dealing with. Well. I think it would work. And I usually think correctly." He grinned as the rest of the team turned to stare at him. "Just a thought."

* * *

It took more than four hours to round up all thirty of the Weevils that had been let loose in Cardiff, and by the end of it, the Torchwood team was more than thankful that they had been sentient Preidoxhylorians, because at least then they stood still rather than endlessly roaming the streets. A lot easier to find and capture.

Not easier to store, though, as Jack and Ianto discovered upon shifting the eighth unconscious body into the back of the SUV. Just not enough storage space – they'd had to resolve the issue by cuffing the Weevils back to back so that, even when the spray wore off, they wouldn't be able to run far. Where possible, they had chained them to sturdy metal piping or similar that was nearby. They'd need to come back and collect them later, of course, but at least they weren't wreaking havoc in the meantime.

On the fourth collection trip, just as they were beginning to relax at the end of their task, Jack's wrist-strap went haywire.

"Woah," he said suddenly, looking down at the sparks that were singeing the leather as they spat themselves from it.

Ianto shot the strap a dangerous sidelong glance. "What is it?"

"We've got a massive Rift prediction. Too massive. Three blocks away, but there's no way something that big can come through the Rift–"

Anna and Greg were off before Jack had even finished, Ianto and Lois close behind.

The Doctor turned to Jack with an amused smile. "They really are yours."

* * *

There was no visible Rift opening when the team rounded the corner, all vaguely organised in a bit of a rabble by this point. Ianto was in front with Lois, reading the scouter over her shoulder. She had managed to lock it onto the surrounding area, though it hadn't yet registered any activity. Apparently, the device wasn't capable of affirming Rift activity in advance. Anna stood a few feet across from the pair of them, weapon raised and at the ready. Behind her, but slightly to the left, was Greg. He had put the medi-kit on the ground and had both hands free, but, unsure what to do with them – he really ought to get weapons training soon – had simply jammed them in his pockets to protect them from the autumnal winds breezing along the street.

A tearing sound erupted from above them just as Jack and the Doctor skidded around the corner. All six necks craned to meet it, expecting to see some massive entity fall through the Rift – perhaps another plane, or something similar – but at the same time hoping that it wouldn't, because they really had enough to deal with as it was.

What they weren't expecting was a metal cube to fall through. Aside from very nearly squashing Lois as it fell, it didn't look particularly threatening. Jack's wrist strap, however, was still going haywire, and the scouter that Lois was holding, having finally recognised the Rift activity, was acting similarly. Her hand shook slightly. "Jack, this thing's practically off the scale. It's measuring thousands of times the average energy reading of a Weevil."

"It might be compressed somehow," Anna warned. "It might explode."

"Well, we can't just leave it here."

Greg moved tentatively toward the cube – probably about thirty inches big, he guessed – but was prevented going any further by the Doctor's outstretched arm. "Don't touch it. Don't even go near it."

"Why?" He frowned up at the ginger man.

"Because I said so." The Doctor scanned the group of them. "Ianto, ever travelled in time?"

"What? No, not that I know of."

"Good. Anna?"

"Not to my knowledge, Doctor."

He grinned. "Oh, good. You two can carry it back to the SUV between you."

Jack scowled. "What does time travel have to do with it?"

"Well." The Doctor sniffed and adjusted his glasses. "I could be wrong. Rarely am, but the possibility remains. Buuuut, I _think_ that box is dimensionally transcendental."

"Like your TARDIS?" Ianto asked, bending his knees as he and Anna strained to pick up the strange metal box. It was strangely reflective, like the glass of the sculpture that adorned the Hub. It was also bloody heavy.

"That would explain the readings," Jack mused.

"Yes. Well. I'm good at explaining things." The Doctor grinned as Anna and Ianto frogmarched the box past them and back down the street toward the SUV. "The SUV hasn't time-travelled either, has it?"

Jack frowned. "This one, definitely not. Our old one, who knows. That might be anywhere by now. Nicked off an estate," he replied, catching sight of the Doctor's expression.

"Ah." The Doctor nodded in understanding. He knew all about estates.

"What's time-travel got to do with dimensional transcendence, anyway?"

"Well. It doesn't, usually. Except there's a chance that box is activated by aeon particles. Like space-dust, only–"

"More timey-wimey," Jack finished with a laugh.

"What? How did you..?"

Jack grinned. "You've told me before. Or at least, you will."

"Would've thought that sort of thing would go straight over your head the first hundred times I explained it. How long will we be travelling together?"

"A century or so." Jack shrugged.

"Long time."

"Not long enough."

Something caught in his voice, and the Doctor turned to look at him sharply, suddenly very afraid. "Jack?"

"It's nothing." Once more, the captain's voice was clear and confident. He strode ahead as though intent on reaching his destination quickly all of a sudden, and the Doctor had no choice but to match his pace as he followed.

"Jack. Get back here. Right now."

* * *

Jack ignored him until they got back to the Hub, and the atmosphere in the SUV made it uncomfortable in both senses of the word, particularly for the back passengers. Nobody within the vehicle wasn't glad to leave it the instant they arrived back on the Plass.

Jack strode through the cog door with more than the usual sense of purpose and irritation. Part of it might have been down to trusting Lois with parking the SUV in the basement – she was a careful driver, but it could be another hour before they saw her again. But Ianto was busy helping Anna navigate the box through the tourist office and into the Hub, and Lois couldn't match the upper body strength of either of them.

Jack flashed them a quick grin as they passed. "Take it straight down to the archives. Ianto, see if Twitch can help analyse it. She might have more of a clue than we do. Anna, I'll need you back up here."

Her shoulder shifted slightly, and Jack was sure she had instinctively attempted a salute, despite the obvious setback. The two of them disappeared through the nearest corridor, and suddenly the main floor of the Hub seemed rather empty. Just him, the Doctor, and Greg. He exhaled loudly.

At that moment, the platform above began to descend, much to the surprise of the three onlookers. A tall man wearing a pair of wellingtons the same colour as the Doctor's scarf –well, the one he was wearing at this moment in time, anyway – peered over the edge of the platform, seemingly more irritated than Jack had been moments previously. As the lift dipped lower, the rest of him became more clear. He was wearing a cagoule and hiking trousers, and looked like a disgruntled tourist. All he needed was a camera hanging around his neck.

As the man shifted on the platform, he lost his footing and slipped over the edge, landing with a splash in the base of the fountain. Greg let out a small yelp of surprise. Had he been any further from the ground at the time, it might have proved fatal. As it was, the man escaped with apparently little more than bruises, for he abruptly stood up, attempting to retain his dignity despite the water dripping from clumps of his dark hair.

He drew a large breath and waited for a few seconds until he had their full attention.

"Who parked their bloody TARDIS in my parking space?"

* * *

**I will be going on a hiatus shortly. I know how awful it is for readers when writers do it mid-fic, so I'll be finishing this episode. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but there is a high likelihood of me returning to this fic one day. It shouldn't be more than a year, but a year is a long time. At least by then I'll be in Newport, so I'll know the area better. **

**Anyway, this is basically my, uh, letter of resignation, with a promise that I'm not abandoning you entirely. There are other projects that I want to work on, and I don't feel as though my writing skill in fanfiction is good enough to sustain this fic. **

**Not even Scarf knows about this (reading this chapter will be how he finds out, same as the rest of you), though I think perhaps he might have suspected it for a while. **

**Writing this fic has been one of my best fandom experiences so far, with hopefully many more to come. Thank you for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy the rest of this episode. I love you guys, always. **


	64. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 9

**Okay, so apparently none of you got the sub-etheric resonator reference in the last chapter. But that's okay, because I got a PRICELESS reaction from Scarf on the bus today when he realised I was a new Torchwood fan with COE. Clearly my insane knowledge of every Iantoism in the history of the show had convinced him otherwise.**

**The best part of this chapter is the comms conversation. Flip over to Scarf's One Good Reason fic to read Greg's side, which is possibly even more hilarious. **

**Hope you like!**

* * *

"What?" Greg stared at the newcomer in a mixture of apprehension and confusion.

The stranger stepped from the base of the fountain, dripping wet and looking even more irate than he had before. "Out of the way," he grumbled, pushing past the young medic to stand face to face with the Doctor.

The ginger man took a step backward with a defensive hand raised, as though he expected the dark stranger to pose a threat. "I really think you ought to reconsider what you're about to do. It'll only hurt you in the end."

"What the _hell_ did you do to the TARDIS?"

"Oh. That. Well–"

The Doctor was cut off as a hand whipped him about the face. "Bugger," he finished. "That rather hurt."

"It bloody well deserved to," the other man spat. "You've made it match _this_ place, for goodness' sake! Mirrorglass indeed." He gave a short harrumph.

Behind them, Jack smirked. "One of your old companions, Doc?"

"What?" The dark-haired man stormed up to Jack, positively fuming. "Do I look like I'd travel with this idiot?" he demanded.

Jack frowned, raised an eyebrow, and cautiously laid a hand on the man's chest. "You're not... No." He slid his hand across and instinctively took half a step back, eyes wide.

"If you're quite done feeling me up," the dark-haired man said.

Jack just started laughing in disbelief and turned to the Doctor, a grin wide upon his face.

"I did warn you," the Doctor sighed. Still rubbing his sore cheek, he turned to the dark-haired man and said, with a considerable amount of condescension, "If you're waiting for him to move his hand, we might be here a while."

The man shoved Jack's arm away from him, all the while keeping his eyes trained firmly on the Doctor. "I hope you don't tolerate this sort of behaviour." Noticing the Doctor's distinct refusal to answer, he pulled a face. "Urgh. My standards haven't just slipped, they've disappeared. Did you bang your head while regenerating, or something?"

The Doctor just jabbed his tongue out rather childishly.

"I don't get it." Greg glanced across at Jack, who was clearly the only other person in the room even remotely close to sanity. "Do you know him?" He gestured toward the stranger. Most of the water had run off now and, while his clothes were still soggy and miserable, his hair at least was beginning to spring back into some sort of waves, rather than its previous bedraggled clumps.

"I know him from the future," Jack replied.

"Doesn't you saying that in front of him sort of mess with timelines?"

"It would do, if somebody hadn't been stupid enough to double back on his own timeline and give spoilers to his past self." The dark-haired man shot a nasty look at the Doctor, who simply looked taken aback.

"What? When did I spoiler you with anything?"

"Not me. Eleven. Something about an engagement?"

The Doctor's face tinged pink. "Oh. That. Right. Well. Uh..."

He was saved having to think of an explanation by a derisive snort from Jack. "You got engaged?" he asked. "Who to?"

"None of your business." The dark-haired man threw him a dirty look and threw the Doctor an even dirtier one.

Greg looked between the Doctor and the stranger in complete confusion. "Why are you answering each others' questions?"

Jack smirked at the Doctor's hesitant expression. "Tell him, if you like. He's Torchwood. He'd understand surprisingly well."

"It's not that." The Doctor scratched his chin. "It's... Well. I can't remember whether or not he knew when I first met him."

Greg's eyebrows met in a frown. "How'd you mean, when you first met me? Oh, wait. You meet me in the future?"

"Your future, yes." The Doctor beamed. "If he's from the forties, Jack, your teammates are getting less sharp as time goes by."

"Hey, Ianto's as sharp as they come," Jack argued.

The Doctor sniffed and scratched his nose. "If you say so." He cast a glance towards Greg. "I don't think you did know, you know. Do know. Will know."

"No," the dark-haired man agreed. "Not as I recall, and my memory's significantly better than yours."

The Doctor looked affronted. "How would you know? You haven't been me yet."

"Can you remember well enough to argue against that statement?"

"Well. No. But that's not the point."

"I think you both lost the point a while ago," Greg said. Both of them turned to face him, looking thoroughly insulted. "If you don't mind me saying so," he quickly added.

"Lost the point? Ha! I couldn't lose the point if I tried. The point might lose me, but that's a different matter altogether." The Doctor paused. "What were we talking about?"

"You," Jack said, turning to the dark-haired man with a smirk, "were just about to introduce yourself to Greg."

"I was?" the Doctor asked.

"No," the dark-haired man corrected, "I was."

"I don't remember me – you, rather – doing so."

"You don't seem to remember much at all."

The Doctor sniffed haughtily at him. "I certainly don't remember being that rude to my elders."

"Not even Jack?"

"Jack doesn't count."

"Jack never counts."

"Greg wants to know who the hell you are." The young Welshman smiled at them.

"Greg is also speaking in the third person for no apparent reason." Jack smirked.

The dark-haired man coughed loudly. The others fell silent. "I'm Dr John Smith," he told Greg, doffing the homburg hat that he wore.

"Right." Greg folded his arms. "John Smith."

"Yes."

"And that's not a suspicious name at all."

"No, it isn't." John Smith smiled politely.

"Well, it sort of is, seeing as that's been a fake name since before even I was born."

"Fake? I'll have you know there are more than ten thousand John Smiths in the United Kingdom alone. I'd say you seem more suspicious – there are only fourteen others with your name." John Smith gave him an appraising look.

Greg raised an eyebrow and looked at the man as though he were a complete idiot. "Right. Because Greg Bishop is such a commonly adopted name for criminals."

"Are you implying that I'm a criminal?" John Smith asked. "What kind of criminal would be stupid enough to use the name John Smith in this day and age, anyway, hm?"

Greg just stared at him, not really having an answer to that one. Instead, he changed the subject. "So, did you work for Torchwood, or..?"

"You honestly think I'd work with this lot?" His eyes narrowed. "I'd rather work for the Beriak Alliance, and they sacrifice a member of their team with every rotation of their sun. Torchwood? No thanks."

"Well," the Doctor added. "Freelance. Maybe."

"A freelance doctor."

"Yes." John Smith gave him an encouraging smile. "Problem?"

"Well, no, not really. Except that, well, Torchwood already has a medic. So why..?" Why are you needed here, Greg wanted to ask. Didn't, out of politeness, but wanted to.

The man caught onto the question regardless. "My boy, you seem to be assuming – rather foolishly, I might add – that I'm a medical doctor."

"Aren't you?"

"Only sometimes."

"What about the rest of the time?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and shot a weary glance across at the man. "Oh, the rest of the time he enjoys lying about trivial things like what the time is and whether or not Pluto is a planet."

"Why would people think that Pluto wasn't a planet?" Greg asked.

The other three people in the room exchanged glances and concealed smirks.

"And what's the point in lying about the time?"

"Firstly, because time is relative anyway, and I shouldn't have to be expected to abide by Earth's temporal laws. Secondly, because if you're standing in the sunshine and ask me what the time is, and I answer that it's just gone midnight, you're going to disagree with me, thereby staking a claim to more accurate timing than my own, in which case why did you ask me in the first place?"

"Well. There is that. Just seems a little childish to me," the Doctor pointed out.

John Smith glared at him. "Because irritating those in authority by attempting to communicate in Morse code, telling really long jokes that have no punchline, and leaving tips in Bolivian currency is so much better."

Greg looked helplessly at Jack, who was wearing a massive grin. "Is everybody that you know insane?"

"It's a requirement."

At that moment, a bell tinkled, and Greg automatically looked up toward the source of the sound.

"It's the tourist office," Jack explained.

"It has a working bell?" Greg asked, incredulous.

"And a regularly updated selection of pamphlets. Ianto's a little bit–"

"Anal-retentive?" the Doctor suggested.

"Precise," Jack corrected.

Greg smiled. "Obsessive-compulsive is more like it." The bell rang again. "I'll go and get that, shall I?"

"If you like." Jack shrugged. "To be honest, angry tourists don't frighten me that much."

"You clearly haven't been living in Cardiff for long enough."

"I've lived here longer than you have."

"Being buried underground doesn't count." Greg shot him a look before sprinting off toward the cog door and the tourist office.

As soon as he was gone from the room, Jack's face split into a wide grin aimed at the man who had introduced himself as John Smith. "So. Two of you, huh?"

"Jack." The Doctor shot him a warning glance. "No."

"What?" Jack held up his hands defensively.

"Just...don't."

"Don't even try it," the dark-haired man added.

"You're Twelve?"

"What makes you think that?" John Smith eyed him suspiciously.

"I was told I'd never met the Eleventh Doctor. Which, by the way, I still haven't been given a decent explanation for."

He didn't get a chance for his explanation, however, as their conversation was interrupted by a crackle from the comms device lying on a nearby workstation. Jack picked it up and adjusted it in his ear until he could hear Greg's voice well enough.

The Doctor and John Smith, however, were only able to hear half of the conversation. The half that they heard wasn't particularly reassuring.

"Quadruplets." Jack leaned his elbow against the desk, the expression on his face dangerously close to a leer. "See you in a few hours. Want me to distract Anna?"

"You're in a room with four girls."

The two Doctors exchanged worried glances.

"Haven't you learned anything in the three years you've worked for Torchwood? We're very good at faking ID."

"Oh, is that what you're doing with Whitehall's money these days," Thirteen muttered.

"Oh. That's a shame. He has a habit of ruining the party. All four of them travel with him?" Jack paused for a second. "And just how pretty is pretty?"

Twelve shot him a look. "Who's travelling with whom? Jack?"

"Hm."

"Jack, if you've got anybody that I know up there, you have about five seconds to–"

"Greg, if they were pretty ducks, I wouldn't care."

"Jack, are you even listening to– Wait, what? Ducks?"

"You're just not open to trying new things. That's your problem. And bring them down to the Hub. I'd come up there myself, but I don't trust either of these two alone, let alone both of them."

Jack removed the comms device with a grin and turned back to the others. "Sorry, Doc, you were saying?"

* * *

**Thanks to everybody for their support of my hiatus. It really means a lot to me. **

**I won't ever stop thinking about you or developing ideas for this series, so when I do come back, it should be awesome. =D Hopefully. **


	65. ONE GOOD REASON Chapter 10

**Okay, so it's been like two fucking months and I have no decent excuse whatsoever. I'm not asking for your forgiveness. Instead, I'm going to try to earn it with more regular updates. Scarf and I have a new method for writing, which means that our chapters are written at the same time and a lot faster (though re-formatting takes forever). It also means they continue directly on from one another so, uh, yeah - you're gonna HAVE to read his side. It's a prerequisite now. It also means that our chapters are no longer distinguishing who wrote what. Scarf wrote some of this, and I wrote some of his chapter. **

**Also. I met Gareth David-Lloyd on Sunday (came off as a complete mumbling idiot, though - me, not him, obviously), and got his autograph, and the wonderful Solstice Zero is sending me a Christmas present. It's my birthday on the 14th, I've finished my major coursework deadlines (and thus have oodles of time to write, theoretically) - things are looking up. **

**What? I'm happy for me, even if you aren't. **

* * *

Greg smiled at her. "Is there such thing as a safe distance when it comes to Jack?"

Nadrin scowled. "No, but you know what I mean." She turned to the Erythraeans. "You do realised that maintaining that disguise is no longer necessary, they all know about-" She halted, and grinned mischievously. "On second thoughts, keep it for a bit longer."

"Oi." Greg's smile broke into a grin. "Jack's having fun enough with the Doctor without you lot adding to the mix. It's not Christmas yet, you know." He paused for a second as he scoured the crowded desk of pamphlets for the switch that re-activated the entrance into the Hub. He eventually came across a large red button that did the trick. As the brick wall gave way to a large opening, he glanced across at the leading girl. "You do realise you just admitted to knowing Jack after all, right?"

"...No I haven't. I just got a very accurate picture of his character from your conversation." She snorted and pulled her skirt as close to her knee as she could without it falling down. "Can we hurry up, the Doctor and I have important stuff to do."

"Is that just him and you, or him and-" Greg broke off and gestured around at the replicated others. "All of you?"

She glared at him. "All of us, but that's beside the point. And why should I tell you, anyway?"

"Because my boyish charm compels you to do so?" Greg tried, somewhat half-heartedly. "No? I never could pull off the grin as well as Jack."

"I wouldn't know, I've never seen Jack pull that grin off," she retorted innocently, before jabbing a finger impatiently towards the opening.

"Term 'grin' does not register."

"That's because he prefers to keep it on," Greg said, smiling at his own bad humour. It was a second before he realised another of the girls had spoken. "Wait, what?"

"Term 'grin' does not register."

Nadrin rounded on Sarine furiously. "If you say that another fucking term does not fucking register, I'll crush your face to the size of an ant."

"Term 'ant' does not register."

"RIGHT, THAT'S IT."

Greg quickly stepped in between them with raised hands. "Woah, calm down." He kept eye contact with Nadrin for a moment, then slowly turned to face the other girl. "Wait, you recognise 'fuck', but not 'ant'?"

"Term 'fuck' has been used on a regular basis by Nadrin."

"Ah. Which would make you Nadrin, I assume?" Greg asked, turning back toward the girl whose fists were still clenched.

"No, I've never met you before. You have no idea who I am." She frowned. "No, that's not right. Well it is, but... Yeah, I'm Nadrin. Now can we PLEASE go and see the Doctor." She spat the word please from her mouth as if it were poisoned.

"Yeah, sure." Greg forced the smile back onto his face and quickly ducked through the opening. He poked his head back out before Nadrin had a chance to follow. "Best let me go first, check the...coast is clear." He coughed before continuing down the passageway.

--

"What the hell is Greg up to?" demanded Twelve, giving Jack the sort of glare that would shatter ice.

Jack shrugged. "With quadruplets? I'll leave that to your imagination."

"I'd rather not think," Twelve muttered back under his breath.

Thirteen sniffed. "No. Well. That was largely your problem, wasn't it?"

Jack grinned. "Boys, boys. No fighting." Nevertheless, he made no attempt to break up the argument.

"Problem? I'll give you a problem, you carrot-headed buffoon!" Twelve continued, ignoring Jack completely.

"Buffoon? Oh, that's bloody self-righteous coming from YOU. You couldn't even tell the difference between a Frorling and a Fluirdine."

"Frorlings have a beautiful masculine complexion like mine, Fluirdines have a mucky pus colour, much like you."

Thirteen didn't rise to the bait. "I suggest you revise your definition of 'masculine', then, sir." The last word was practically sneered. "Goodness, even Jack wouldn't go for you."

"Well." Jack cleared his throat and glanced away. Luck was on his side, as at that moment, the cog door rolled open. "Oh look, a distraction."

Greg strolled in, followed immediately by Nadrin and her three duplicates. Twelve noted the four copies, and sighed despairingly as he remembered Jack's 'quadruplets' conversation.

"Nadrin, what's this about you and ducks?"

"Greg said I look like a duck. Well, Sarine, Mhror and Noahxd too."

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. "Ducks - feathery, wet and highly amusing. You, short, dry and terrifying. I don't see the connection."

Greg's gaze flicked from one to the other like a ball in a ping-pong match. "Wait, you two know each other as well?"

Nadrin giggled and ignored him. "I'm certainly a lot drier than you. What happened, Jack decide to give you a wash? Not that I know who Jack is. Is he even here?"

Twelve sighed. "Don't bother Nadrin, it's a bit messed up already, that's my fault."

"It always is," Nadrin agreed, nodding sagely.

"Not me, him."

"But you said it was your fault."

"It is, but not me me. Him me."

"...Lolwut?"

"Lolwut? What's that supposed to mean?

"IT MEANS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU CRAZY LUNATIC MANIACAL NUTTER."

"I think he means me." Thirteen stepped forward with a smile and bowed with a flourish.

Greg looked from Nadrin and her counterparts, to Twelve, to Thirteen, and back again several times. Then he looked at Jack, and mouthed a silent 'what?'

Twelve opened his mouth to reply to Nadrin, but stopped as a though occured to him. He turned to Jack. "Do I tell them - I'm guessing Greg doesn't know about the Doctor and I."

Greg spun around to face him, eyes wide and frowning in horror. "Wait, you mean-"

"I bring coffee." Ianto's smile quickly fell as he caught sight of the various expressions adorning those in the room. The clones also probably had a fair amount to do with it.

Twelve grinned widely, which quickly turned to a frown. "What do you mean you bring coffee? You should know by now, lords of time and space demand tea, fine, lovingly brewed and perfectly presented tea. In a white china mug - with or without penguins." He smiled sadly.

Nadrin tutted. "I thought you'd forgotten about that."

The Doctor shook his head vehemently. "How could I ever forget my beautiful penguin tea cup? Which you sold. YOU."

"Pffft. He said it was worth something. Didn't know that he meant it was worth a lump of Bauxite."

"Oh, it was you who sold the penguin tea cup?" Jack smirked. "I always wondered."

Ianto just stood there, mouth hung slightly open, apparently unable to move. He shifted his head slightly to gaze at Jack with the same expression. "Did he just...not...want coffee?"

The Doctor nodded stiffly. "I'll drink coffee - but when compared to tea, coffee is but the urine of the pygmy marmoset."

Ianto just blinked at him. Greg bit his lip for a moment, weighing up circumstance, then strode over and attempted a hug despite Ianto's stiffness and the coffee tray between them making it exceedingly awkward.

"I'm sure Ianto will make you some tea if you ask nicely." She gasped in alarm. "Not that I know you're called Ianto, err, I guessed."

Ianto coughed gently into his hand, balancing the tray on the other. "Of course." He glanced toward Jack, looking for some sort of explanation.

Jack just grinned. "Timey-wimey."

Ianto nodded as though this were perfectly normal. He placed the tray on a nearby workstation and exited to make the tea, hand brushing past Greg on his way out.

Twelve grinned. "Right, now we're getting somewhere. I suppose Mhror had better fill you in on the details."

Jack looked amused as one of the Nadrin clones stepped forwards and stood before him, the other clones following on his heels.

"I am Mhror, of the Temporal Division of the Scientific Assessment League, Erythrae."

"That's funny. You look sort of female." Jack grinned and held up a hand. "Not that I mind, or anything. Believe me, I'm not biased either way. I'm just curious."

Greg smirked as he moved to stand beside the captain. "That's one word for it. Were you just waiting for Ianto to leave the room?"

Jack didn't bat an eyelid or even turn to face him. "Yep."

"Then why didn't you just say it before?"

Jack fixed him with a split-second glance and a grin. "Because I've learned to expect the coffee?"

Greg shook his head. "You're terrible and you don't deserve him."

"Just so long as you're wearing your own shirts, Greg."

Mhror's version of Nadrin's face contorted into a frown. "Terms 'coffee', 'shirts' and 'Greg' do not register."

Nadrin sighed. "Have you not been listening for the past hour or so?"

"So...you guys don't ordinarily look like that?" Greg asked, warily eyeing up the Erythraeans still wearing Nadrin's body.

Mhror frowned again. "Term 'guys' does not register. But in response to your enquiry, human, we do not normally bear the appearance of Nadrin. I consider than it would be an appropriate time to reveal our true form." He looked towards the Doctor for confirmation. He nodded in reply.

"Switch off the Visual Perception Confribulators." Noahxd and Sarine did as they were bit, causing all the occupants of the room to blink in surprise as they instantaneously morphed from Nadrin's dimunitive form to their own imposing figures.

Greg stumbled back in surprise, nearly falling into one of the workstations. "Okay, so that's...not what I was expecting. Are you all male, or..?"

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "Now look who's all interested."

"Not like that!" Greg quickly replied, looking flustered.

Sarine's aura had a distinct grey tinge - her training had been basic and had not covered interaction with sentient life forms. She turned towards Jack, as it was he who seemed to be in charge. "I am female, my name is Sarine. Am I to assume that the inference is that this human has homosexual tendencies?"

Greg let out a string of incomprehensible syllables, and took a step backwards into the workstation again with a clang. He winced in pain. "I... what?"

Jack shrugged, smirking. "Give the girl a prize for perception."

"But...how...what?"

Thirteen sniffed at him. "Well. You're associated with Jack. What did you expect?"

Sarine's aura phased from grey to orange. "Is perceptiveness an attractive feature for humans, Jack?" she enquired. "Logic predicts Jack is your name."

Jack placed a hand on his hip. "From where I'm standing, it looks pretty good." He raised a suggestive eyebrow. "So have you already experienced the whole rainbow, or..?"

"Jack." Greg's voice was more a sigh than a warning. He turned to the Doctor. "I notice you're not trying to stop this."

"No. Well. Usually best to leave Jack to his own devices." A pause. "I notice you're not, either."

Greg looked at him. "Should I be doing?" he asked, his voice mild.

Twelve shrugged. "Up to you. But if Jack knew the reproductive cycle of the Erythraean race, I doubt he'd be so keen."

Noahxd turned red in annoyance. "Interbreeding is not permitted."

"Safety first. Gotcha." Jack gave him a mock salute.

Greg turned to Twelve with a grimace. "Unfortunately, I don't think Jack's that easily dissuaded."

* * *

**I may have to up the rating due to language now that Nadrin's in this fic. D=**


End file.
